New Beginning
by don'teatmycookie
Summary: Bella uses Edward's laptop to start a journal.
1. The Night Before

**Day 1, Thursday  
****11:16pm  
****Cullen House-My room**

It's late. Very late. I should be asleep, actually, especially if I want to have enough brain cells left in the morning to concentrate on carrying myself down the aisle with any semblance of grace.

We all know that's not going to happen, but sleep might improve my chances...slightly.

I've started this journal at what seems to be a very important milestone in my life: The night before my wedding. That's right. _My_ wedding.

Who'd have ever thought, right?

I've decided that it would be constructive of me to use this time to begin recording the events of this night and the years that follow in order to—

Oh, who am I kidding? I'm doing this because I'm bored out of my skull, Alice has the Gestapo (Jasper and Emmett) planted outside my door to make sure I don't slip down the hall to the guest room and molest my husband before our wedding night (like I'm some kind of black-and-white movie villain out to steal his innocence), and all I've got to work with is a laptop and a sharpie.

It was either this or drawing happy faces on the window for an hour and I really don't need Esme attacking me with her dust buster tomorrow because I scribbled all over her pristine walls and windows with permanent marker. I'll be nervous enough without my mother-in-law-to-be coming after me with cleaning supplies.

So. Anyway. I've come to the conclusion that not only will this journal be good for my physical health, but it will help Edward and me to develop a stronger relationship by being able to review the earlier stages in our marriage and compare them—

**  
11:31pm  
****Still in my room (Edwardless)**

Crap. Either Jasper or Emmett tattled on me to Alice or that girl has bionic ears and could hear the typing from halfway across the house, because she stormed into the room a few minutes ago with a handful of fabric in one hand and a very vicious-looking pair of pinking shears in the other and told me to put the laptop away before it ended up in the trash with the rejected parts of my dress fabric.

Obviously she'd been undergoing the Wedding Dress Renovations we'd discussed. Alright, the ones I'd forced her into doing.

My dress was beautiful, I'd give her that, and if I had to get married at all, getting married in a dress that I wasn't completely repulsed by would certainly make it easier, but there was just one tiny problem with the lace in the underskirt: There was _too much_ of it. On the outside the dress looked normal, but underneath its calm, demure exterior--well, it was like an explosion had taken place. And it didn't take a genius or a psychic soon-to-be sister-in-law to figure out that no matter how short that aisle was and no matter how many test runs we did, one of those slips of fabric was going to find it's way beneath my feet at the most inopportune moment and I was going to end up in one of the guest's laps. Or, if Fate was feeling especially catty, knocking over the priest.

Or Edward.

Or both.

That was just the way my life worked and, deny it though she might, no amount of practice or praying on Alice's part was going to make it otherwise.

So that's how it came to be that Alice was up at almost-midnight, swimming around in lace instead of doing something productive.

Like waking the caterer up to ask if he'd made sure to order the _exact_ amount of food she'd requested, or contemplating whether the curtains_ really_ matched the rolled-out carpet that separated the aisles of chairs in the expansive living room into two sides and marked my path to married bliss. Or whatever.

Anyway, I proceeded to explain to her how I was too nervous to sleep and how she'd dragged my only source of comfort halfway across the house where he could do nothing to console my fears and what did I get for my positively heartrending performance?

Alice pointing the pinking shears at my head and growling, "GO. TO. SLEEP." Before storming from the room.

I think this wedding stuff is really getting to her.

I guess it wouldn't hurt to at least _try_ and sleep.

Again.

**  
12:00am**

Not even remotely tired yet.

**  
12:13am**

Nope. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zippo.

I've run out of ways to say "I'm not asleep".

**  
12:28am**

Maybe I should try counting sheep.

Yes. I'm that desperate.

**  
12:45am**

I have counted sheep forward, backward, sideways, and in Spanish. I have counted so many sheep I may hear baa-ing for days. I will never be able to look at another sheep again.

**  
12:51am**

Finally! My eyelids are starting to feel heavy. Not from the sheep counting, though. I've started trying to solve linear equations in my head. If that doesn't bore me to sleep, I will never sleep again.

**  
12:52am**

I wonder what Edward's doing right now…

**  
12:53am**

Hopefully thinking of me. And for the record, me thinking about my own fianc—

Fia—

Fiancsftjhgv

Ugh. Still can't say it. I'll have to work on that…later.

Anyway, thinking about my own --_insert un-say-able word here_-- does not mean that I've got some sort of sexual frustration issue, despite what Jasper might believe. Although, at least Jasper has some physical evidence to back his claims up (though I still say those supposed "waves of sexual tension" he's been feeling are just indigestion from all that grizzly bear he and Emmett have been sharing). Emmett, on the other hand, seems to think I'm some sort of depraved sex-fiend. He even offered to buy Edward a rape whistle in case I finally "crack under the pressure" and try to jump him or something equally unlikely.

Ha ha, Emmett. Ha ha.

Sigh. I've gotten myself all irritated and riled up.

I'll never get to sleep at this rate.


	2. Insanity

**Day 2, Friday  
****THE BIG DAY (Gack)  
****4:05am**

Up. At four o'clock in the morning.

FOUR O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING.

Is Alice trying to KILL me?

Can't type anymore.

Sight dimming.

Fingers weakening.

Armsndsgfh,gr;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

**  
6:15am  
****Alice's Room**

Wedding preparations are in full swing and everyone is in their starting positions.

Maid of Honor (Alice): Flipping out over last-minute details, throwing things, and shouting "WHERE'S THE SALMON?" at a man who may or may not be the caterer. Maybe just a frightened usher? Who knows.

Bridesmaids (Esme and Rosalie): Doing their best to sedate Alice, answering stupid questions, like "Yes, Emmett, the bowtie goes on top" and "No, Bella, I will not shoot you", and screaming "WHERE'S THE SALMON?" at the caterer/usher.

Mother of the Bride (Renee): Fussing over the Bride, asking every five minutes "Are you absolutely SURE about this?", telling stories of her own multiple wedding nights (i.e. making the Bride violently ill), and screaming, "WHERE'S THE SALMON?" at the terrified man who I'm now certain is an usher and may have possibly just wet himself.

And last, but not least: The Bride (Me): Icing her ass. Oh, and shouting, "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, FIND THE SALMON!" at the usher who looks as if he might faint dead away any second now.

Oh, no, you didn't read that first part wrong. On this, the day of my wedding, I am sitting on my bed with an impromptu icepack wedged between by behind and the comforter because my maid of honor found me attempting to stave off insomnia by catching a few minutes of well-deserved sleep and tipped the entire mattress on its side. And, of course, since my life seems to just suck that way, I went sprawling onto the floor and landed directly on my tailbone.

I'm not going to be _walking_ down the aisle tonight, so much as hobbling.

Which will look very attractive, I'm sure.

**6:21am**

The caterer is here. Finally. Alice stormed out of the room without so much as an "I'm sorry" to the poor usher who was looking like he'd just barely survived a hurricane.

Anyway, we've found the salmon, Emmett has finally gotten his bowtie on the right way, my butt has gone numb, and Renee went to the bathroom two minutes ago. So I've got a slight reprieve from hearing more about Charlie's "magic hands" on her "virgin's skin".

Honestly, these are NOT the images I need on my wedding day. Or ever, for that matter.

**  
6:23am**

Uh-oh. There's a commotion downstairs. Everyone's rushing out of the room to see what it is. And does anyone stop to help the bride?

No.

**  
6:29am**

From the sounds drifting up the stairs every few minutes I'm guessing that some other miniscule part of Alice's wedding plan has gone awry.

But you know what they say about mice and men…

**  
6:30am**

Alright, I can distinctly make out the sound of breaking glass. And screaming. Either someone broke something Alice didn't want broken or Alice just broke some body part on one of the staff. I don't know why she insists on having human help, but I guess she wouldn't be having nearly as much fun without a few poor schmucks to boss around.

Either way, it's bound to be an eventful—

**  
7:02am**

If I were a squealing type of girl I would be doing that right now. But since I'm not, I'm simply basking in the warm glow that's enveloped my heart.

Edward took full advantage of Alice's brief moment of distraction and managed to sneak down the hall into my room.

"Hey, you aren't supposed to see the bride before the wedding, mister," I scolded halfheartedly as he swiftly locked the door behind him. We both knew a lock wouldn't keep Alice out if she found out he was in here, but I was hoping that she'd be too busy massacring the help to notice.

"Who says so?" Edward replied, easing onto the bed beside me and wrapping me in a hug. He felt a lot like the icepack (or cold-water pack, now) that I was sitting on, but decidedly more pleasant. And less wettish.

"It's tradition," I mumbled, leaning my head against his chest and inhaling deeply. Suddenly, wedding dresses and hysterical maids of honor were far, far away. It was just me, Edward, and the unfortunate ache in my rear, which could be overlooked in light of my newfound contentment.

"And we all know how much Edward Cullen _loves_ tradition," I continued, wondering if he'd mind if I closed my eyes and used our private moment to get some rest.

The chest my cheek was resting on expanded and contracted as he sighed dramatically. "I suppose you're right. I guess I'll be going, then—"

I curled my hands into claws and anchored him where he was. "Not if you value your life." I thought about that for a moment. "I mean, your existence."

A low chuckle rumbled through his diaphragm. "You're going to have to make up your mind, Bella," he whispered in my ear. "Tradition…or me?"

There was no choice to be made. I smiled lazily and snuggled closer, closing my eyes. He chuckled again.

"And technically, I haven't seen you in your wedding dress yet, so at least some of our traditions will remain in tact, hm?"

I nodded sleepily. "Sounds good to me."

"But might I ask…why _aren't_ you in your dress yet? Or at least being primped and powdered?" He leaned back a little to take in my outfit (a pair of old flannel pajama bottoms and one of his shirts I'd found lying around). "Not that I'm complaining," he assured me. "But I'd have thought Alice would've locked you in the bathroom and kept you hostage in there until the absolute last second."

"I bruised my butt, Renee kept telling scary stories, Emmett couldn't tie his bowtie…" I sighed, only half-awake, "and nobody could find the salmon."

Edward was silent for a moment, probably trying to make sense of the mess of an explanation I'd just given him. I wanted to look up at his face to see if he was as incredulous as the long pause suggested, but I really couldn't muster the willpower.

A cool hand ran up my back, stopping between my shoulder blades and working its way back down. "You're tired, aren't you?"

"Mmm," was all I could get out. Tired didn't even BEGIN to cover it.

"You _look _exhausted."

"Gee, thanks," I mumbled.

He pulled my chin up so I was forced to look him in the eyes. I was temporarily struck dumb and almost didn't hear him when he asked, "How much sleep did you get last night?"

I struggled to remember how to move my mouth so that it would form words in English, not Edward-is-looking-at-me-and-my-mouth-feels-like-it's-all-full-of-cotton-ish. "Um, maybe three hours?" I buried my face in his chest and trying to get back into sleep-mode.

I could tell without even looking up that he was frowning. I'm just good like that. "I'll have to have a talk with Alice. If you're not getting enough sleep—"

THAT brought me out of my stupor faster than any alarm clock could have. "No!" I hissed, glancing toward the door cautiously. "Edward, you can't! Alice did THIS to me—" I jabbed my finger in the direction of my behind and ignored his eyebrows as they scooted up on his forehead "—just for trying to sleep! Imagine the carnage if she found out you'd been in here! It would be a bloodbath! Friend and foe alike would be cut down. There'd be blood and taffeta everywhere—!"

Edward's laughter interrupted my melodramatic rant. "Alright, alright," he said, resuming the motions of his hand in an attempt to soothe me. I let him try and wished him luck. "I'll just pretend I never came in here and leave you to suffer at Alice's non-existent mercy."

"Thank you," I sighed, relieved, and then wrinkled my nose. "I think."

He laughed again, and then stiffened. I groaned. "No. She can't be coming back already. She hasn't had time to eat the entire wedding party yet."

Edward kissed the top of my head and sighed resignedly. "Sorry, sweetheart, but she's already on the warpath. Apparently a member of the staff dropped one of the ice sculptures and it melted all over the carpet _you're_ supposed to be walking down tonight. We wouldn't want to give her any more reasons to make your life miserable, would we?"

I actually had to think about that for a moment, but finally I said, "Fine, but if she tries to keep us apart during the reception so we can "mingle" I'M going to go on the warpath."

Edward laughed one more time, kissed my cheek, and headed for the door.

Something occurred to me as he reached for the door handle. "Edward?" I asked.

He paused. "Yes?"

"_Ice sculptures?_"

He smiled. "Yes. Ice sculptures."

I moaned and fell back onto the bed.

**  
7:04am**

Alright, so apparently this ice-sculpture-melting-on-the-carpet thing is a very big deal. Alice's level of intensity on the Freak-Out scale has gone from Mild Spaz-Attack to that scene from Godzilla where all those Japanese people are running in terror.

And just to clarify, no, she is not the terrified Japanese people. We are.

She's starting to toss around words like "re-carpeting". As in re-carpeting the entire living room.

My bridesmaids have given up on calming her down and are off doing God-knows-what in other parts of the house, my mother is still in the bathroom (and if I'm lucky she'll stay there until I've taken a sedative), and my maid of honor is about six French fries short of a Happy Meal.

Oh, and I'm pretty sure the bag of now luke-warm water has sprung a leak.

Joy.

**  
7:10am**

Alice paced past me mumbling incoherently to herself. I'm wondering if anyone will notice if I break the window, tie my bed linens into a rope, shimmy down, and make a break for freedom.

**  
7:25am**

Alice has locked herself in the adjoining bathroom.

**  
7:26am**

I have to pee.

**  
7:27am**

Isn't the irony just killing you?

**  
7:28am**

There are other bathrooms in the house, of course, but with my luck I'll set out to find one and end up mortally wounded or accidentally wander into Emmett's room and get eaten by a pile of dirty laundry.

No, I think I'll just hold it. She can't be planning to stay in there much longer.

**  
8:10am**

OH MY GOD.

**  
8:11am**

Couldn't hold it any longer. I scurried over to the bathroom and knocked.

The growl that came from behind that door will haunt my soul for the rest of eternity.

I'm going to go find another bathroom. That one is tainted.

**  
9:00am**

Getting caught doing the "Pee-Pee Dance" by your fiancé, his brothers, and various members of the staff who all just happen to be in the hallway at the exact same moment you come hopping around the corner (possibly planted there by some bored deity who finds my pain amusing), really puts things into perspective.

For instance, death wouldn't be nearly as awful as I thought it would be. Compared to this, facing a thousand Alices armed with eyelash curlers and high-heels would be my idea of a picnic.

And speaking of high-heels, the minute I stepped out of the bathroom, a slightly-less-than-sane-looking Alice thrust a pair of ornate strappy heels all done up with sparkly things and a ridiculous amount of ribbon (supposedly used for securing the death traps to my feet, but, honestly, I could probably wrap them around myself twice and still have enough room left to lasso a calf) under my nose.

All she said was, "You're wearing heels."

As rationally as I could handle being at that moment with half the household looking on to see what the Amazing, Masochistic Bella would do next, I said, "Alice, you agreed last month that you'd let me wear flats—"

Alice shoved them so close to me face that the left shoe's heel practically went up my nostril. In a calm, level voice, she said, "The bridal carpet is ruined, one of my ice sculptures has been destroyed, the caterer, instead of salmon, ordered Emmett's weight in jumbo shrimp, and I've got a very light grasp on my sanity right now. So the best way for you to help me take a step back from lunacy is to PUT. THESE. ON."

Well, there's no point arguing with that kind of logic, now is there?


	3. Warning

**FREAKISHLY LONG WRITER'S NOTE**

Heya! Thanks for the reviews. I appreciate the love.

I'll try not to make the whole story one big joke, but if I start making too many snappy comebacks or sarcastic comments, feel free to e-slap me. Also, I'm pumping these suckers out as fast as I can, but I'm only human, so if you don't see me for a few days, I'm either working diligently, staring transfixed at the TV screen, or lying on the floor bleeding from the head. Call 911.

Oh, and there aren't going to be any wedding night lemons so don't get your hopes up. You've got an imagination. Use it. Or go read a smutty novel.

And for your random viewing pleasure: A bunny!

/)/)  
(n.n)  
(")(")

P.S. Also, just so you know, feel free to tell me if you find anything you don't like. I don't exactly take criticism well (per se), but the worst I can do is wish many violent curses upon you and all your kin, then realize you're right and fix the problem. No one ever said I had to be gracious, but that doesn't mean you have to be afraid. It's good for me.

Actually, now that look at it, this note wasn't as long as I'd thought it would be. You got off easy this time.

* * *

**  
Same Day  
(12 hours and counting)  
9:16am**

Back in my room, sitting on my bed. Mein Führer is goose-stepping around the house barking orders like we're all trainees at military camp who aren't running the obstacle course fast enough. Jasper made a short-lived attempt at inconspicuously seeping some calm into Alice's veins.

That went over like a sack of bricks. Jasper's now in the forest with Emmett, searching for his left arm. I swear, it's like 'Nam in here.

On the bright side: Mom's back and she's started in on Phil's "bedroom behaviors". I'm glad Alice isn't in the bathroom anymore. I'd hate to throw up on her nice white carpet.

**  
9:18am**

Staring pointedly at the carpet, humming the Oscar Meyer theme song in my head. Mom doesn't seem to notice, but at least I've managed to block out most of the dirty scenes she's spun for my enjoyment.

For the stuff that got through, however…well, I'll have to discuss with Edward how much money he'd be willing to spend on psychological counseling.

Or shock therapy.

**  
9:21am**

That's it. Edward and I are _not_ having a wedding night.

**  
9:29am**

In fact, we may never have sex.

EVER.

**  
9:30am**

You think I'm kidding?

I'm not.

**  
9:34am**

Thank God! Alice has come marching in! This is the first time in nine hours that I've actually been happy to see her.

**  
9:45am**

Alice dragged me by my arm to her bedroom. I managed to grab the laptop off the bed before she started wrenching my arm out of my socket. I put up a good fight, shouting "The power of Christ compels you!" over and over and looked around for a Bible to beat her with, but whatever minion of Satan has possessed my sister isn't giving up that easily.

I did spot Edward on the way in, and I latched onto his collar with one hand.

"HELP ME," I managed to rasp out before Alice hauled me kicking and screaming behind her door.

**  
11:02am**

I used to think that I knew a bit about fashion. Not like Alice, of course. No one knows fashion quite like Alice does. If fashion were a religion, she would worship at its alter. She'd put together a little shrine with clippings of fabrics and pictures of designers and say a little fashion prayer every night.

Polyester would be her Satan.

No, not like Alice. Not even like Rosalie, who might not worship any fabrics or attempt to burn all my clothes and call it an accident like SOMEONE I might mention, but who certainly knows how to dress.

I was never gifted with their level of knowledge. But I always thought that I knew the general "do"s and "don't"s. Or, at least, I knew not to wear anything leopard and/or zebra print, or to attempt to squeeze into a pair of bell-bottoms. Honestly, I'd have to be possessed, drugged, or at gun point to do any of those things.

But in the hour and fifteen minutes I've spent in Alice's room being put through all kinds of cruel and unusual torture, I've realized that I know NOTHING about ANYTHING to do with fashion.

To name a few:

1. "Manicuring" is a very specific circle of Hell that no one ever bothered to mention in any religious scripture I've ever come across. Seriously, some of those little metal tools Alice pulled out looked less like something designed to trim my cuticles and more like a device created for the sole purpose of pulling my brains out through my nose.

2. When one is asked whether they would prefer Gucci or Prada ANYTHING, the correct answer is one or the other. NOT, as I unwisely thought, "Is there any difference?" Answers like this lead to fifteen minute lectures on the history of both Gucci and Prada, and how one is "soiling their good name" by mashing their "unique styles" together.

3. Designers will line their products with the fur of anything fuzzy. Even squirrels. Even ferrets. Some of Alice's wardrobe may actually be the result of illegal animal poaching.

4. A Manolo Blahnik is not a foreign dessert.

5. It is not okay to wear sweats on your wedding night. It is also not okay to joke about doing so to your mentally strained maid of honor.

6. I don't care what anyone says, high heels aren't comfortable. They're right up there on the list of agonies women have to suffer through in life, directly between "menstrual cramps" and "labor".

7. If your sister-in-law asks your opinion on anything (for example: shoes), your reply doesn't actually matter. She will still spend twenty more minutes ripping bald patches in her hair and mumbling to herself until she finds the right shoe. Telling her to go with the Gorgonzola will have about as much impact as actually naming a brand of footwear.

8. Asking for a snack break while trying on your wedding dress is like asking for a potty break during military training.

9. And the answer will always be "no."

10. Of course, if it's an emergency, scrunching up your face, then relaxing all your muscles and sighing in relief works wonders towards freaking out you chaperone and getting you an immediate reprieve.

The revenge comes when she won't help you get out of your wedding dress.

**  
11:12am**

Spent ten minutes convincing Alice that I did _not_ need any live animals to carry me down the aisle.

When I said "Don't get carried away" what exactly did she hear?

**  
11:15am**

Rosalie's come in to ask Alice a question about something that is apparently top-secret, because she went in vamp-overdrive, her lips blurring with the speed of her words.

Since all I could hear was a low, fuzzy undercurrent of sound, I took the moment to examine Rosalie in her bridesmaid's dress. She was breathtaking, of course. Words couldn't describe her dazzling beauty, and I was considering removing her from my wedding party just to decrease the chances of me looking like a wet weed in a rose garden.

Rosalie and I had something of an unspoken truce. In fact, the only reason she was in the wedding party was because everyone _else_ in the Cullen family was and there's no better way to say "Please continue to hate me" than by excluding your future sister-in-law from a wedding party the rest of her family is part of.

Maybe I was being overly sensitive, but it would have felt…I don't know…_mean _to leave her out.

After all, she would be part of my family, too.

Like the big sister I never wanted.

**  
11:16am**

Uh-oh. Why is Alice looking at me like that?

**  
11:45am**

Alice is _still_ pushing the high heels! I thought that stage in her Crazy Phase was over, but apparently she's willing to take the risk of me maiming one of our guests with a stiletto.

I, however, am not.

Alice, of course, couldn't care less.

But I finally put my foot down and told her that there was absolutely no way I was wearing high heels and that I wasn't going to budge on the issue.

Which is how ended hiding in the linen closet on the first floor.

Yeah, I can't really figure out how this happened, either.

**  
11:53am**

I'm amazed I've lasted this long, actually. I'd have thought she'd have been in here fifteen minutes ago, dragging me out by my ankles and chaining me to the wall in her room/torture chamber.

But I've been lucky so far. Maybe all the different people running around outside are messing with my scent. Maybe someone broke something else and Alice is too busy breathing fire at the frightened village people to worry about little ol' me. Maybe Emmett finally managed to pin her down and Jasper forced a big sack of calm down her throat.

Whatever it is, I know it won't last long. I'm tired, I'm hungry, I'm out-of-my-mind nervous because all the insanity hasn't been able to distract me from the fact that I'm getting MARRIED today, and I'm sitting on a pile of towels in a linen closet hiding from a girl a half foot shorter than me.

I need to get out of here.

**  
12:05pm**

I'll never make it out if my stomach keeps making these ridiculous growling noises. Shush, stomach!

**  
12:15pm**

Okay, I managed to sneak into the kitchen and nab a loaf of French bread off the counter while the caterers weren't looking. Good news: It's still warm. Better news: I only stubbed my toe twice.

**  
12:37pm**

I'M FREE!

I've never been so lucky in my life.

After I stole the bread like a desperate beggar (Is this how a bride gets "pampered" on her wedding day? IS IT?), I snuck back to the closet to regroup. I tried really hard not to focus on any one escape plan in case whatever was distracting Alice disappeared and she realized I was tunneling my way to freedom with a metaphorical spoon.

I sneaked down the hall as stealthily as my infamous feet would allow and was halfway to the door when Edward appeared out of nowhere. He just popped up like a freaking daisy, or something. And he didn't even stop to wonder what I was doing downstairs in my wedding dress, wearing his jacket, with a giant loaf of bread under my arm.

He just smiled, kissed my forehead, and whispered, "Don't stay away too long. Esme will worry."

"And you?" I couldn't help asking.

He sighed. "Worry is inevitable for me when I know you'll be out there, alone, walking across bumpy surfaces." He handed me something small and square. "Just come back alive. That's all I ask."

He slipped quickly back into the rush of people scrambling to get things done. I glanced down at the white box he'd slipped into my hands.

A first aid kit.

Oh, har-dee-har-har.

I was staring after his retreating back with my best "We are not amused" glare, when I heard Alice's voice screech, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T FIND THE PHOTOGRAPHER?!"

Which was my clue to exit stage left.

**  
12:45pm**

I've found a nice quiet spot in a sunlit clearing in the forest behind the Cullen house. I hadn't wanted to venture into these woods because I was sure my dress wouldn't survive the trip (no pun intended). I wasn't TRYING to destroy Alice's dream-wedding, and coming back with my dress in tatters would be just cruel after all the planning she'd done.

But spending half the morning as the target of that planning had left me exhausted.

So I've spread Edward's jacket on the ground, and have found a nice, thick tree trunk to lean against.

I think I'll rest my eyes for a minute.

**  
1:34pm**

The strangest thing just happened and I have to get it down quickly, before I forget it.

Maybe it was the warmth of the sun or the peace and quiet of my serene little clearing (though it was more likely that I was just beat from my morning with Alice), but one moment I was reciting my wedding vows in my head to make sure I wouldn't end up drawing a blank in the middle of my own wedding and forgetting them, and the next I was being forced awake by a persistent, _annoying _rustling sound.

At first I couldn't remember where I was, and then the morning came rushing to the fore. I was hiding from Alice in the forest.

How long had I been asleep?

It didn't matter a second later when the thrashing caught my attention again, followed by the sharp, unmistakable crack of a twig breaking.

I held perfectly still, running through all of the dangerous situations I'd gotten myself into in the last year and the frightening people I'd met who wouldn't hesitate to kill me if they stumbled across me, alone in the woods.

My heart started trying to kung-fu its way up into my throat.

The crunching stopped. The air was still. I couldn't hear anything but silence.

And then—"Hounds of HELL!"

The curse came from my right and my head snapped around so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. My jaw dropped when I saw who was standing there.

It was a girl. Bright brown eyes stared bemusedly back at me. Long, dark hair full of leaves and twigs rolled in thick waves across her shoulders and down her back. On her feet were a pair of ratty, dirt-encrusted tennis shoes that looked like they'd seen MUCH better days. She was holding a bleeding thumb to her mouth, attempting to soothe the sting away with her tongue.

And she was wearing, amazingly enough, a wedding dress.

Seriously, what are the odds?

We stared at each other, unsure of what to make of the situation. Was there some kind of wedding dress etiquette? Should we talk about flowers? Exchange caterers? Compare crazy sister-in-laws?

The girl shifted her stance and opened her mouth as if to say something—when the irritating rustling started up again. Whoever was coming was moving fast and they weren't bothering with stealth either.

The Mystery Bride went stark white as she whipped around and scanned the trees. Then, suddenly, she took off running across the clearing and was about to disappear into the woods again when she skidded to a quick halt, turned to me, and whispered, frantically, "You have two days before they arrive. Be prepared."

And then she disappeared. I was sitting there, wondering if the caterer had maybe put CRACK in my French bread, when a dark shape burst from the woods and disappeared the same way, hurrying after the girl.

And that was it.

You see what I mean? If anyone else had come into these woods, they would have found twigs, leaves, annoying birds, and not much else. But me? I find a runaway bride bearing dire warnings.

Fabulous.

**  
1:42pm**

And what does she mean, I've got two days before they arrive? Before _who_ arrives? What am I supposed to be prepared _for_?

Knowing my luck, it won't be good.

Not good at all.

I'm going to need an aspirin the size of Chicago to get through today.


	4. After All

I swear the next one will be the last wedding day entry. I just don't want to make my chapters so long that by the time you get to the end, you're dead.

* * *

**  
6:00pm**

So much is happening, I haven't had time to write. The water on the carpet finally dried (I mean, that was a BIG ice sculpture, damn Alice and her decorations), but apparently the material of the carpet is the kind that doesn't do well with liquids. The fabric beneath the stain has clumped together and created a three-foot expanse of clumpy, ugly material that will definitely detract from Alice's "picture-perfect matrimony" theme. The caterer and his assistants are working like crazy to find a use for the ton of jumbo shrimp they brought and everyone is taking extra care to make sure Edward and I don't see each other.

I hate tradition.

But if I don't let the nervousness out somehow, my head will explode and Alice is going to go ballistic because I got brains all over her room.

I have three hours. THREE HOURS.

I, Bella Swan, soon-to-be Cullen, will be MARRIED in THREE HOURS.

Oh God, I can't breathe.

**  
6:05pm**

Nothing cures a case of hyperventilation like someone bouncing a rolled-up, brown paper bag off your head and shouting "Breathe into that and stop making so much damned noise!"

Alice didn't taken her bride disappearing very well. In fact, one of the staff went home crying and the missing photographer, who had just been a little late, had a full-on asthma attack when Alice came swooping down on him brandishing a stiletto.

I'm guessing this is why getting married is something you only want to do once.

**  
6:10pm**

Alice is back from whatever preparations she's been making all this time. She stands in the bathroom doorway and crooks her finger.

Okay. Here we go.

**  
7:30pm**

Alice has taken a short break to go downstairs and make sure no one's done anything else that will make her turn green and start throwing cars around. With the way she's acting you would think it was _her _wedding she was preparing.

I just had a look at myself in the floor-length mirror. I look ridiculous. My hair's alright since I forbade Alice from curling anything or dumping glitter or _flowers_ into it. I'm a little disappointed about the make-up. She spent at least a half hour fluttering around my face with a thousand different products, plucking things and painting things and repairing the damage I caused when she let me try to put on mascara myself while she went to check on the cake and I stabbed myself in the eye.

But only half of my face looked like it was done, and it didn't look like she'd _done_ much of anything.

And, besides looking like a half-painted clown, in order to avoid any premature mishaps with gravity (i.e. tripping), Alice had helped me pin parts of my dress up in strategic places that wouldn't wrinkle. So I had layers of lace pinned all over the place, keeping my dress off the floor and revealing the highly attractive pair of dirty work boots that belonged to Rosalie, coupled with a pair of saggy, old-lady socks.

If I walked down the aisle looking like this, Edward would probably end up making fast tracks away from me.

That is, if I made it down the aisle at all.

I—

What the hell is _that_?

**  
7:45pm**

Alright, so the loud, annoying scratching noise was Emmett and Jasper trying to claw their way to freedom. Alice has dragged them into the room to keep me company while she goes to take care of some "last-minute details". The fact that she said this in the same tone that she'd used to tell me she was "just going out for a few things" the day she'd brought home sixteen pairs of designer shoes for me to try on, worried me to no end.

Anyway, Jasper and Emmett stood there for a few moments, looking awkward and unsure what "keeping me company" was supposed to entail, until Emmett finally got a good look at me.

And then the mockery began.

**  
8:00pm **

I was just preparing to stop Emmett's ridicule by doing some very not-nice things to him with one of Alice's many scary-looking manicuring tools, when there was a soft tap on the door and Charlie came sidling in, looking very uncomfortable in a dark blue suit. One that looked surprisingly new. Had he bought a new suit just for my wedding? I mean, it was a special occasion, yes, but…this was _Charlie_ we were talking about. The man who fears change so deeply he's been using the same laundry detergent for the past twenty years.

His first words when he caught sight of me across the room, however, were, "What in God's name happened to you?"

Thank you, Dad, for that wonderful vote of confidence.

A round of violent coughing erupted behind me, and I turned to glare at Jasper and Emmett. Both of them stared off in opposite directions, the epitome of innocence.

"You two can go now," I growled, and they were gone so fast I was amazed they didn't leave skid marks.

Charlie stood hovering awkwardly in the doorway. I stared at his tie, unable to quite make it to his face.

Things had been…strange between us, since I'd tactlessly announced to him my upcoming nuptials. I don't know what possessed me, but it had just kind of fallen out while I was getting Charlie a quick snack before I had to head up to bed and tell Edward I'd chickened out.

I believe my exact words were, "Here's you popcorn, Edward and I are getting married, love you, see you in the morning, g'night!" And then I'd hurried up the stairs.

I'd had to ask Edward what an aneurysm looked like, because I thought Charlie might have been having one.

Anyway, the next morning we'd sat down and had a long, long, LONG discussion that involved a lot of Charlie pacing around, saying "No. No. Absolutely not" and me threatening to move out. In the end, we'd come to a stalemate, Charlie disapproving of my decision, but fully aware that there wasn't much he could do to stop me, short of having me locked in a convent.

The long months between then and now had been wrought with uncomfortable silences and unspoken worries. Charlie and I weren't exactly the "open up and express all your inner emotions" kind of family. Our philosophy was more that we'd ignore the situation and hope against hope that it went away. Quickly.

Dr. Phil would be appalled.

He'd been quiet so long, I'd been afraid I'd have to get Carlisle to walk me down the aisle. There was no question of me doing it by myself. I wouldn't make it two feet in Alice's Heels of Death.

"Um," I stammered, not sure what to do. "Did you want to…?" I had no idea what I'd been meaning to say, but that didn't seem to matter since Charlie seemed to be having the same difficulty.

"Oh, I, um," He stuttered right back, staring at a spot somewhere near my left ear. "I just wanted to let you know I'm here…I, uh, just got here. Saw your mother on the way in. She's looking…tired."

"Yeah," I said, twisting a slip of dress fabric between my fingers. "That's Alice's handiwork. She's got everyone working double-time to make sure everything runs smoothly. She really wants this day to be special for me. And God help anyone who gets in her way," I added under my breath.

Charlie chuckled. "I guess you got off easier than the rest, huh?"

I stared incredulously, then spread my arms wide. "Does it _look_ like I got off easy?"

He smiled. "No, I guess not. You look…" he trailed off, meeting my eyes for the first time. His expression shifted from discomfort to something else. Something I couldn't place. It almost looked like…pride. "You look really great, Bella."

I waved my hands at my Clown-Put-Through-A-Blender ensemble again. "Seriously?"

He laughed. "Well, I guess your outfit could do with a bit of fixing up. But you…I think you look great. Almost…glowy."

He flushed as I raised an eyebrow. "Is that even a word?"

"I'm doing my best, Bells, cut me some slack." I conceded the point. He really was trying to be understanding, and he hadn't started ranting about how I was going blindly into this marriage, nor had the words "Siberia" or "nunnery" been used, so that was definitely a positive sign.

Charlie suddenly went back to staring at his shoes. "So…how are you…feeling?"

He sounded like he was choking.

I took a deep breath to try and loosen the tightening feeling in my throat. "Nervous," I whispered. "Marriage is…big. It was never really that important to me. In the beginning, I only agreed to it for Edward's sake." I sidestepped the part about Edward making it a stipulation before I could get horizontal with him. I wanted to reassure Charlie, not kill him. Unfortunately, now that I'd started, I didn't seem to be able to stop myself from word-vomiting my worries all over him. "I always thought that marriage was just a title, or something society could look at and acknowledge. And I never thought we needed that. I thought that Edward and I shouldn't have to prove that we loved each other through something as unstable and insignificant as _marriage._ But now…well, I'm still not looking forward to it, but…it feels a lot less…simple. It feels really, really, big and…and I can't breathe again."

Charlie looked around, panicked, as I lowered myself to the bed taking deep, calming breaths that didn't seem to be doing squat. I think he was hoping Alice or Renee would pop up and rescue him. Poor guy. He'd asked a simple question and gotten a semi-hysterical daughter.

"Uh…" He scooted forward like whatever I had might be catching and patted my back awkwardly. "It's alright, Bells. I'm sure you two will be…uh…you know…" he took a deep breath. "Look, Bella, you know I'm really bad at this kind of thing."

"I know," I said, collecting myself. I stared up at him apologetically. "Sorry." I smiled a wobbly, hardly heartening smile. "Panic attack over. I promise"

"Yeah. Look, I'm just gonna…" He pointed thumb over his shoulder toward the door.

I nodded. "Go ahead. Thanks. Sorry." I heard the door open, and in the resulting quiet I rested my head in my hands and took some more deep breaths.

"Bella?"

My head snapped up. Charlie was stopped in the doorway, looking straight ahead, but still talking to me. "I haven't had the most…spectacular luck with…marriage. And I just wanted to say that…"

I shifted on the bed, not sure where this conversation was going.

He continued, rushing through to the end quickly, "I think that if anyone could make it work, it's you. Love you, kid," he added gruffly, and hurried out of the room.

I'm ashamed to admit that the minute the door closed, I did the one thing I'd always thought was a disgusting bridal custom that I would never, ever be a part of.

I burst into tears.

**  
8:05pm**

Alice is pissed.

**  
8:06pm**

I look like a wet, mismatched panda.

**  
8:07pm **

And I'm getting married in fifty-three minutes.

**  
8:08pm**

Great. I can't breathe again.

**  
8:10pm**

All right. It's all right. All I have to do is let Alice finish my make-up and make it through the next hour without something too catastrophic happening. That's. All.

Can't be too hard right?

**  
8:15pm**

Oh, hell. I can hear screaming from downstairs. But Alice is up here with _me_, so…

WHAT NOW???

**  
8:16pm**

Rushed downstairs to see who had died. We nearly ran over a dumfounded Renee on the way.

"What's going on?" I asked her. Alice didn't even bother to stop, just kept barreling down the stairs toward the first floor.

"I don't know," she said. "I was coming up to see how you were doing. But what's…?" She turned to stare at me. "How many things can go wrong in one day?!"

I honestly didn't know what to tell her. So we hurried downstairs.

If I were anyone else, this situation would seem beyond the limits of the impossibly ridiculous to the point where I would be sure I was either hallucinating or certifiable. But as it's me, I'm starting to wonder why I didn't see it coming.

The scene that met my eyes when Renee and I turned the corner to the front hall of the Cullen house will be burned into my retinas for the rest of eternity.

We just stood there, staring, unable to register that something this insanely stupid could actually be happening.

Renee was the first to snap out of the stupor, leaning over to whisper, in utter amazement, "Is that...is that a _duck_?"

**  
8:35pm**

A DUCK has flown in through an open window and is flapping its way around the house, wreaking havoc.

No, I am not kidding. A FREAKING DUCK.

Apparently it flew in through the window in the kitchen, trying to get at some scraps of bread on the counter, and took mild offense when the head chef screamed and went after it with a cleaver.

I wonder why.

So now, there are at least sixteen humans chasing poultry around the area that I'm supposed to be getting married in, in twenty-five minutes.

Ha! Hahahahahahahaha!

**  
8:37pm**

My brief bout of hysterical laughter hasn't helped matters. It has, in fact, succeeded in frightening the duck into hiding. But I sure feel better.

**  
8:40pm**

If Alice ever worried that my wedding day wouldn't be memorable enough, she was going to be positively ecstatic to hear that no amount of therapy would _ever_ be able to erase this day from my memory.

**  
8:45pm**

Alice has come to sit beside me, where I'm reclining amusedly on the sofa. She managed to herd all of the guests out onto the front lawn with some appetizers and a bit of music to keep them distracted. She looks like she's in shock. I can't say I blame her.

Emmett's never had such a good laugh in his abnormally long life. In fact, Rosalie is doing her best to get him up off the floor before he hurts himself.

Esme is horrified by the amount of feathers littering her living room floor. Carlisle isn't sure what to make of the situation. He just keeps blinking, like he's expecting to wake up any minute now.

Jasper's staring at me in amazement, as if astounded by my trouble-summoning abilities.

And Edward...well, Edward slipped onto the couch beside me a few minutes ago and, wrapping both arms around my shoulders, said, "If a hundred years ago, anyone had ever told me that my future wedding would involve twenty pounds of jumbo shrimp and a duck, I think I would have called an asylum. It worries me that now, the fact that there is a five-pound bird being chased around my house has no effect on me at all."

I smiled, leaning back against him, but not saying anything. Truthfully, I couldn't think of anything _to_ say in a situation like this. I mean, there was a _duck_ hiding somewhere in our _house_. I don't think there have been any reassuring sentences written in the English language that cover situations like this.

Edward's granite chin rested calmly on my shoulder and his cool breath ran across my ear as he whispered, "I am sorry, however, that I won't be marrying you today." He sighed, forlornly. "I was so looking forward to calling you 'wife'."

I realized, with some surprise, that I was a bit disappointed too. Now that I'd resigned myself to the situation, marriage to Edward didn't seem quite so awful. I'd never actually had any complaints about being joined to _Edward_, even in this superficial way, and the ridicule and gossip (worse in this small town, where a good scandal is like raw meat to piranhas) hadn't been as mortifying as I'd thought it would be. So, yes, I was disappointed, and _I_ hadn't been the one who'd acted like Christmas was coming early the whole time. I couldn't imagine how crestfallen Edward must be.

Something Edward said suddenly snapped Alice out of her reverie, however, and she turned to glare at him. "What do you mean, you won't be getting married today?"

Alice hadn't even finished her sentence when Edward started laughing. "I should have known."

I glanced between the two of them, not liking the feeling that I was the butt of this secret joke. "What?"

"Bella," Alice said, leaning over and patting my hand. "Did you really think I'd just go into this assuming everything would turn out fine?"

"No, but—"

"I could have wished that Edward could at least have waited until tonight to see his bride," she grumbled. "And maybe the bird was a bit much, even for you, but—"

"Alice, would you just tell me what's going on!"

"Come on," she laughed, pulling me up from the couch and sauntering toward the front door. "I've got something to show you."

**  
8:56pm**

Alice has succeeded in astounding even me with her genius. I resent the fact that her reasons for doing what she did were simply, "It's Bella. Something was bound to go wrong."

But she's made up for it completely. Apparently, she'd had this idea in her head for the longest time, but had wanted me to have a nice, traditional wedding before she moved on to bigger and better things.

"But when the carpet got destroyed," she explained, exaggerating (in my opinion), "I decided that it couldn't hurt to have a back-up plan. And since the wedding is at night, the weather isn't an issue, so…do you like it? It's not much, but even _my_ brilliance can't make miracles."

She glanced nervously toward the set-up of white chairs arranged in the large clearing. I smiled. There were no decorations, no ice sculptures, and no long aisle carpet for me to walk down. And thankfully, no live animals. Just the chairs, various chirping insects, and enough moonlight to make the possibility of my spraining anything…well, less likely.

Yep. It was perfect.

Looks like I'm getting married after all.


	5. Hot And Bothered

The final wedding day entry. It took us a while to get here, but here we are.

* * *

9:01pm 

Alice says I have to put my laptop away. I'll have to do this by memory. I'll write it all down later.

**  
9:25 pm**

Alice unclipped my dress, forced my feet into the heels, and wiped off all of my make-up (wincing as she did so), saying that we couldn't afford to waste time fixing it when, with my luck, a meteor could come crashing to earth, right on this spot, at any moment. She says that if that happens, by God, I'll be married when it does.

Glad to see the duck didn't take any of her spunk.

**  
9:33pm**

Everyone's moving double-time. Alice has shepherded the befuddled guests into their seats and everything is in order. It amazes me that after all that ado, Alice has just left all the decorations behind, sat everyone down in a seat, and said, "Let's do this." I guess I _did _get my way, in the end.

Emmett's no longer officiating, since Alice wants someone to keep a lookout for any signs of trouble (werewolves, evil homicidal vampires, more ducks, etc.). I'm pretty sure that's just her excuse to keep him from using his position to crack endless jokes during the ceremony.

I told her not to worry, that Emmett knows when to be serious, but she just told me that she's not taking any chances.

So, everyone, including the priest, is in position and they're all waiting on me.

Is it too late to change my mind?

**  
9:34pm**

Oh, boy. Charlie's hurrying over. The wedding march (nice and traditional, of course) is playing out of a small stereo at the foot of a tree in back. I feel like a hippy, but oh well.

Time to go.

**  
9:35pm**

Walking down the aisle. All eyes are on me. I _really_ don't like it. Resisting the urge to point at the sky, shout "Hey! Look at that!" and sprint the rest of the way while everyone's distracted.

Okay, focus on Edward, focus on Edward and his wonderful face, and his wonderful eyes, and his wonderful encouraging smile, and is it just me or does he look abnormally sexy in a tux?

**  
9:35pm and 15 seconds**

Feeling slightly warm now. Don't trip, Bella, don't trip. Charlie'll buckle like a toothpick if you do.

Edward's still smiling. His lips are curled back over his teeth. I can't seem to stop staring at them. I think I want to bite them.

**  
9:35pm and 20 seconds**

Alright, my dress is feeling significantly warmer. And my mind has wandered off to other parts of him that I'd like to bite. Bad idea if the goal is to remain upright.

**  
9:35 and a half**

How effing long is this aisle?!

**  
9:36pm**

I have arrived! And I didn't trip! Hurray!

Charlie gave my hand a tentative squeeze before hurrying to his seat.

Alright, the worst has passed.

Now I just have to focus on not ripping Edward's tux off and jumping his bones right in front of the priest and various onlookers.

**  
9:37pm**

No easy feat when he's standing so darn close. Can't we do this from a bit of a distance? Like on opposite sides of the clearing?

**  
9:37pm and a half**

Edward's lips are moving. My sanity is protesting, but my girly bits are shouting their approval.

**  
9:38pm**

I don't think I like Jasper's knowing half-smile. Can he feel what I'm feeling? Oh, I hope not.

Wait, why am I looking at Jasper?

**  
9:39pm**

And for his information, thinking about my fi…anc…cé (there, I said it!) isn't weird. It's perfectly normal.

Or, husband, now, I guess.

**  
9:39pm and 1 second**

WHOA, WAIT A MINUTE. HUSBAND?! That can't be right!

But it is. The priest just said "man and wife". I think Edward just kissed me, but I'm numb (and a good thing, too, or he might have had to put that rape whistle to use).

But when did I…when did he…when did we…?

I don't even remember saying my vows!

Oh, God, I hope I didn't say anything about jumping his bones.

**  
9:45pm**

Everyone's crowding around to congratulate us. I still can't feel anything. Actually, I can feel one thing. Edward's hand is resting on the small of my back and every molecule in my body is focused on that one point.

I hope he can't feel how unnaturally hot I am through the fabric of my dress. Although I'm sure half the guests think I'm coming down with a fever, my face is so red.

**  
9:46pm**

I have a question. Do the bride and groom actually have to _stay_ for the reception?

And is there a certain period of time that has to elapse before a wedding night can take place? Because I would definitely be willing to take care of that now. Right now.

**  
9:47pm**

What is wrong with me? I can't even think straight. I feel all sweaty and fidgety. It was never this bad before. Maybe it's knowing that it's going to happen soon, or that there are no more conditions keeping us from…

Oh, no. That thought did not help _at all_.

**  
10:00pm**

Everything's starting to blur together. There was toasting and congratulating. I think I saw Angela, and maybe Mike. Did we invite Mike? I don't even remember. Renee came up to squeal over how romantic she thought it was that we decided to have our wedding out under the moon and stars. I didn't want to ruin her dreamy fantasy by pointing out the large moth perched on her hair.

Alice has had the food brought out to the clearing. There are some candles lit so everyone can see. I guess the moonlight's not enough when you have more to focus on than two people standing right in front of you.

I think I ate something. I don't know what it was. I'm still in a state of shock and I can't keep my mind from making little mental excursions into my marriage bed.

Honestly, someone could put a boot in my mouth right now and I'd chew it.

**  
10:15pm**

Dancing with Edward. I think I'm dying. I have to be. I feel dizzy and I can't seem to take my eyes off Edward's damned lips.

The shock is gone, though, and there's an unexpected amount of excitement in its place. I'm married.

"Married," I mumble, rolling the word around in my mouth to see how it feels. Edward hears me and smiles.

"Married," he whispers back, leaning down and kissing the top of my ear.

Oh, very, _very_ bad idea Edward. You have no idea how close I am to snapping right now. But I'm also starting to wonder why Edward isn't looking half as hot under the collar as I am.

And why I'm feeling so…I don't know.

Is this normal?

I'll have to ask Alice.

If I make it through the evening.

**  
10:17pm**

I'm trying to think of a way to excuse Edward and myself from the reception without coming right out and saying, "Would you mind if we went inside? I'd like to go upstairs and have wild monkey sex with my husband."

**  
10:18pm**

I've got nothing. And Jasper is starting to look worried.

He's not the only one. I don't think this is healthy.

**  
10:30pm**

I don't care anymore. I'll tell them anything, I just have to get out of here.

Edward and I finally cut the cake and while he was feeding me my piece, his thumb brushed my bottom lip. I think I had a brain seizure. I'm almost positive my eyes rolled back in head for a second.

If we don't get out of here now, I'm going to do something I'll regret.

I was just opening my mouth to announce I-don't-know-what to the guests, when Edward, shockingly enough, beat me to it.

"I apologize," he said, not loudly, but with enough authority that everyone quieted to hear what he had to say, "but I think Bella's feeling a bit tired, as am I. It's been an exciting day and I'd like to thank you all for being here to celebrate it with us. I hope you have a wonderful evening."

There was a loud cheer as we exited through the path between the trees. I think I nearly melted with relief. Or was it relief? I really couldn't tell anymore. All I knew was that Edward was in serious danger of losing a very good tuxedo.

And I was getting very annoyed that I was the only one suffering these unbearable urges. Not great for my self-esteem. Also not helping to further my purpose (i.e. molesting Edward).

**  
10:32pm**

We're in the house. Edward has my hand and is leading me up the stairs, chatting nonchalantly about the wedding.

Why is he so calm?

I'm hot _everywhere_. It's getting really uncomfortable in my dress. Every place the fabric brushes leaves this irritated, crawling-out-of-my-skin sensation behind.

I hope I'm not having an allergic reaction to anything.

**  
10:33pm**

I think I might be nervous. This is going to be my first time after all. Aren't all virgins supposed to be nervous about their first time? And _they_ don't have to deal with the likelihood of their boyfriend/fiancé/husband going crazy and killing them in the middle of it.

But if there is any nervousness there, it's buried under all the mental images of the not-PG-rated things I'd enjoy doing to Edward with my teeth.

**  
10:35pm**

Alright. We've made it to the room. Edward has stopped. Oh God, he's turning around to face me…

He's…he's…

Hugging me.

He's _hugging_ me.

Is he _trying_ to make me lose my mind?

Oh, good, he's pulling back. He'll kiss me now. I just have to concentrate on not jumping on him when he does.

Wait. Where the hell is he going?

He's headed over to the bookshelf. It's our wedding night and he's going to read a _book_?! He's pulling something off the shelf and skimming it. I'll kill him.

Suddenly, something occurs to me that I hadn't really considered before.

"Edward," I say, fighting to maintain my tentative grasp on sanity.

"Hm?" he murmurs, caught up in whatever book he's browsing.

"Are you still worried about your…control?" I'm hesitant to bring it up. I don't want to open up a can of worms that will take all night to close.

But he doesn't even turn to look at me. "Not especially. I don't want to hurt you, but I'm well-fed and we have a deal. So I suppose now would be the best time to do it."

I stand there for a moment, waiting for him to get on with it, but he just closes the book, puts it back on the shelf, and chooses another.

I snap.

"Edward Cullen—!"

His low laugh (not at all humorous, but dark and intense) interrupts me, and suddenly, he puts the book back on the shelf and turns to face me.

His eyes are all but _burning_ as he stalks toward me. He wants me too.

That jerk was messing with me the whole time! He knew how I was feeling and purposely dragged out the torture! Where did he get the nerve? Where did he get the unmitigated gall?

Where did he get the self-control?

That's it. I'm going to kill him.

**  
10:37pm**

Well, right after we're done with this, obviously.

**  
Day 3, Saturday  
****4:33am**

After much thorough investigation into the subject, both physically and…well, physically, I've come to a groundbreaking conclusion:

I like sex.

I like it a lot.


	6. Guests

Alright, this is where the story gets a little more serious. I can't turn off the humor and, quite frankly, I don't want to. But believe it or not, this story actually does have a plot.

And since I didn't bother with a lemon (trust me, you'll be scarred for life if I ever write one of those) I've put a few references to the wedding night in here. Oh, and thanks for the reviews. I appreciate you all mucho.

* * *

**1:13pm**

Just woke up a few minutes ago. Edward is nowhere to be found (at least not in the room; I'll admit, I didn't look very hard), but I'm too exhausted to go searching for him.

Sex takes all the get-up-and-go right out of you. And I'm embarrassed to say that I was kind of…demanding last night. Not in a violent sense. I just wouldn't—_couldn't_—stop.

I don't know what possessed me, but…well, let's just say I wouldn't be surprised if _Edward_ was hiding from _me_ in the linen closet.

But, oh well. It was worth it.

**  
1:15pm**

God, I'm sore.

**  
1:25pm**

I've never been one for sleeping in, nor have I ever liked lying around doing nothing. I always feel like I could be using my time to get things done. And lying around not getting things done _withou_t Edward presented absolutely no appeal at all.

So it's no wonder I finally hauled myself out of bed (wincing slightly, then blushing at the reminder of why I was wincing) and shuffled downstairs to the living room.

The stairs were a nightmare. I prayed that no one would suddenly pop up and ask why I was limping and cursing every few steps. If they even needed to ask.

**  
1:26pm**

I wonder if I can get Esme to sew the buttons back on Edward's tux. Last night I hadn't had patience enough to deal with them in the customary way. You know, actually pulling them through the holes.

I opted for the ripping-them-all-off-at-once-and-not-giving-half-a-damn-where-they-landed approach. It worked fine for me last night, but when Alice saw it she was likely to string me up by my toes.

I couldn't even imagine how upset she'd be when I showed her the long tear down the back of my dress. Apparently, Edward hadn't had much patience for buttons last night, either.

**  
1: 28pm**

Ow. Banged my leg on the coffee table while I was scouring the living room for signs of life.

I wish they would move that thing. I'm already in enough pain as it is without bruising myself on the furniture.

**  
1:32pm**

Where IS everybody? I've checked every room on the first floor and called their names, multiple times, but no one seems to be home. Which might actually be a good thing, considering how much noise I made last night.

My face feels hot just thinking about. Please let them have gone somewhere else, please, oh, please, oh—

**  
1:35pm**

Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. No one who actually lives here is home, but you'll never guess who _is_.

The duck.

I was just leaving the kitchen with a bowl of cereal after another fruitless search of the downstairs area when he just went quacking past, like he did it every day. I was so surprised, I nearly swallowed my spoon. I had to give myself the Heimlich maneuver to stop from choking to death.

Did no one bother to hunt the thing down and let him go?

What is the matter with people?

And _where_ is Edward?!

**  
1: 37pm**

Tripped over the coffee table again. Spilled cereal everywhere. The minute the boys get home, they're moving this thing. If I try and do it by myself I'll probably break something.

**  
1:45pm**

I don't know where everyone is, but if I spend any more time walking around downstairs my legs are going to give out and they'll come back to find me in a heap on the floor, covered in cereal. And I can't drag myself back upstairs, because a) it would be mind-numbingly boring being up there alone and b) if I try and make it back up all those stairs, _I will die_.

I'm going to grab some blankets, hunker down in the living room, and watch a movie.

**  
2:00pm**

Alright, I've got three comforters and a mountain of pillows and I'm all snuggled up in front of the couch with a bowl of cereal big enough to go skiing in.

Apparently sex makes you hungry, too. Or maybe it was just not eating anything but half a loaf of French bread and a piece of cake for the past two days. Yeah, that might actually be it.

It's a muggy gray outside, drizzling slightly, and I've turned all the lights out, so the room is nice and dark. I think I like it.

Anyway, I've stretched the DVD player as close to me as the cords will allow and put a bunch of DVDs on the couch behind me, along with some books in case I suddenly remember that I can't stand watching TV for more than fifteen minutes and end up muting the TV and using the light to read instead. Which is probaby what's going to happen.

But, either way, I'm going to sit here and relax until someone comes home.

Trust me, I've arranged it so that I won't have to move a muscle.

**  
2:03pm**

The duck went hobbling past again. I figure as long as he doesn't bother me, I won't bother him. If no one else went after him, I'm certainly not going to put myself through the trouble of chasing him down.

"Just don't eat anything valuable and don't poop on the carpet," I murmured, my eyes fixed on the beginning credits rolling across the screen.

The duck quacked at me and shuffled out of the room.

**  
2:07pm**

What is that noise?

**  
2:08pm**

I don't believe it. Something's_ ringing_.

It sounds like it's coming from upstairs.

You have got to be kidding me.

**  
2:11pm**

I'm trying to ignore it, but the phone won't stop ringing. It has to be Edward calling to check on me. But it's all the way upstairs. In my condition that's _miles_.

**  
2:12pm**

Resist the urge, Bella, resist the urge. Under no circumstances will you drag your poor aching self all the way back up those stairs to talk to him when he could easily just come home and tell you whatever it is he needs to tell you.

**  
2:13pm**

He shouldn't even have left in the first place. I mean, it's the day after our wedding day. This is technically our honeymoon! And I'm sitting on the floor in his living room, completely alone, feeding soggy cereal to the duck every time he waddles past.

No. Edward can wait.

**  
2:22pm**

Alright, so I've cracked. The phone _won't stop ringing_. I have to go up and answer it, if only to stop the obnoxious noise so I can concentrate on my movie. But these stairs seem endless. How big is this house again?

Oh yeah. Three stories.

Good grief.

**  
2:23pm**

I can't feel my legs. And I'm still on the second floor. My god, it's like trekking through the Sahara.

**  
2:24pm**

If I get up there and all he's calling to say is that he's oh-so-jazzed that we're married, I'm going to break his phone.

And then I'm going to have Alice break his arms.

See if he can make any more pointless phone calls then.

**  
2:46pm**

Whoa. I think I've married into a whole family of spazzes. And I thought it was just Alice.

I finally reached Edward's room and hauled myself to the bedside table where Edward's phone sat blinking that I'd missed sixteen calls. SIXTEEN CALLS.

Can we say "overkill"?

I'd barely finished reading that when it started chiming away again.

I flipped open the phone and opened my mouth to ask where he was and what he wanted, but the minute he heard the sound of my breathing on the other end, he growled into the phone, "Tell me you're all right."

I jerked back and stared at the phone in confusion. His voice had been low, but so intense he might as well have shouted. "I-I'm fine," I stammered, putting the phone back to my ear. My heart started pounding in my ears. He sounded panicked. "Edward, what's wrong? What's happened?"

"_What's happened_?" he all but shouted. "You didn't answer your phone, that's what happened!" He paused and I could hear him taking deep breaths on the other end. I was trying to tamp down my righteous indignation, but it's not easy controlling your emotions after dragging yourself up The World's Longest Staircase.

"Bella," he whispered, and I had to strain to hear him now. "Do you have any idea how out-of-my-mind worried I was? You didn't answer your phone. Rosalie and Alice aren't answering theirs. I thought something had happened to you."

"Of course not, I'm fine," I assured him. "And I didn't answer my phone because I was downstairs trying to relax. Do you know how long it took me to get up those stupid stairs? It was like clawing my way up a staircase in Wonderland. I started seeing hallucinations of the Cheshire Cat halfway up. And you and your incessant _ring-ring-ringing_! Edward, sweetheart, let me clarify something for you. I love you and I love it that you're so crazy about my safety, especially since I'm more likely than anyone else in the world to accidentally trip in front of a double-decker bus. But just because I don't answer the phone _one time_, doesn't mean I'm lying in an alley, bleeding to death—"

"Don't joke, Bella," he interrupted. "And I didn't panic after the first call. The worry started when I couldn't reach you, and I couldn't reach Alice, and I couldn't reach Rosalie—"

"Why do you keep mentioning Alice and Rosalie? What have they got to do with this?"

He hesitated. "Aren't they there with you?"

Uh-oh. "Um…no."

Edward cursed. "They were supposed to watch you!"

"Calm down," I said, heading back into the hall. I figured the long trip _back _downstairs would be a lot more bearable if I got to hear Edward's voice while I did it. "I'm sure they'll be back soon. And they probably have a good reason for leaving."

"How long have they been gone?"

"Um…" I checked my watch. "I've only been awake for about an hour and a half, so I'm not sure."

Edward's tone was softer when he spoke again. "Were you tired?"

My face got so hot, I'm amazed it didn't melt the phone. "I-I…um, I was…with the...and I..."

He chuckled. "Nevermind."

I glared at the phone. "Well, where were you, Chuckles? I woke up and where was my husband? Nowhere!"

There was silence on the other end. My eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I only said 'husband' to emphasize how awful it was for you to disappear on me this morning, so don't you dare enjoy it."

I could practically see him smiling through the phone.

"Are you going to answer me, or not?"

He sighed. "I'm in Nevada."

I blinked. "You're _where_?"

"Don't sound so surprised. I was in Mexico, hunting with Emmett and Jasper. They dragged me out of bed this morning--well, Emmett did most of the dragging, actually--but I thought it better not to protest. I found a sudden urgent need to replenish my strength."

The color in my face deepened. I could hear the satisfied smirk in his voice. "Since when do you go all the way to Mexico to hunt? What, do the animals taste spicier down there?" I cringed as I started down the stairs.

"Since I figured out I wouldn't be able to concentrate on hunting if I was in the same country as you."

I flushed with pleasure. You see? _This_ is why I married him.

"So how'd you end up in—ouch—Nevada?"

"When you didn't answer my calls, I started back toward Washington. Why do you keep "ouch"ing into the phone?"

"No reason," I mumbled, not wanting to give him any more material to tease me with.

"Bella…"

"I tripped?"

"Bella!"

"I'm sore, okay? I'm sore everywhere, exhausted and sore. You've proved your unparalleled sexual prowess. You've ruined me for all other men. You're just that good." I sighed in relief as I hit the landing of the first floor. "Just be sure to call me before you get home so I can help you squeeze your over-inflated head through the door."

Edward laughed so hard I could barely understand him when he said, "I'll be home as soon as I can. And I'll be sure to call you ahead of time." He suddenly paused. "What's that noise?"

"Oh, that's the duck," I said, settling into my spot on the floor with all the grace of a marionette whose strings had suddenly been cut.

"The _duck_? You mean it's still in the house?"

"Yeah, he's decided that he likes it here. He might actually want to rent a room. Which reminds me, how would you feel about having a pet?"

I heard the distinct sound of choking on the other end.

I smiled and pressed 'Play' on the DVD remote. "It's okay, we can talk about it when you get home."

I hung up.

Well, that could certainly be entertaining. I may actually keep the duck just to see his reaction.

**  
2:49pm**

The duck is toddling around my blanket, pecking at things and honking every once in a while. Actually, it _is_ kind of cute.

**  
2:52pm**

Look at him waddle. Every time he walks by he stops for a bit of cereal. He doesn't seem to care that it's soggy and…well, disgusting.

**  
2:54pm**

I think I'll name him Paddy. Because of that 'pad, pad' noise his little webbed feet make on the carpet.

**  
2:56pm**

Oh my God. I think I actually want to keep the duck.

**  
2:57pm**

Is this some kind of joke? The doorbell just rang. WHY CAN'T I HAVE ONE MOMENT OF PEACE?

**  
2:58pm**

Whoever they are, they won't stop pounding on the door. It can't be any of the Cullens. They wouldn't knock at their own door.

So whoever it is had better have a _very_ good reason for their presence or something to defend themselves with.

**  
2:59pm**

Tripped over the freaking coffee table _again_. That's it. I'm going to go find a wood chipper.

Right after I take care of my unwelcome guest.

**  
3:28pm**

Oh, God, where is Edward when I need him? I don't…I can't…what do I do?! I don't know how to handle things like this. And there's so much blood everywhere. The smell is so intense it's like someone's holding a hot iron to my brain.

I'd finally opened the door with a very unwelcoming look plastered on my face, grumbling and probably looking a bit crazy since I hadn't brushed my hair or changed out of the pajamas Edward had helped me into that morning.

But when I saw who was crouching on the stoop, her brown eyes panicked, I froze.

It was the girl from the forest. The one in the wedding dress. She was coated in blood, her forearms covered in it, her shirt stained with it.

And she wasn't alone.


	7. Accident

All right, you guys don't handle cliff-hangers very well. AT ALL.

But I need serious imput on this one. I couldn't think of how else to introduce new characters, so I just kind of...crashed them right into the story.

Transitions aren't my thing.

I tried to express how Bella might feel about something like this just popping up on her doorstep, but I'm not Bella and I've only got so much patience for explanations. So I hope it makes sense and I hope you enjoy my new dysfunctional couple.

**

* * *

**

**3:46pm**

Sorry, I had to run to the kitchen to get Kat a glass of water. She couldn't figure out where the cups were and I don't want to let her out of my sight until Edward decides to stop gazing at whatever clouds he's stopped to stare at and gets himself HOME. Anyway.

When I'd recovered from my initial shock out on the porch, the source of all the blood had finally registered. The girl had her arms wrapped protectively around the torso of a boy. He had to be about eighteen or nineteen. His clothes were torn, his face deathly pale, and his dark eyes, which were cracked open slightly, looked glassy from pain.

Blood was leaking through his shredded shirt and pooling on the porch. The smell hit me like a punch in the stomach.

"Um, hi. I don't know if this is a bad time or what, but I didn't know where else to go and this was the only house nearby and he's _really_ heavy, so I couldn't drag him into town to get him some help and even if I could, I don't think I have enough time and I don't know my way around here—"

I could barely understand what she was saying, she was plowing through her explanation so fast, but my eyes were fastened to the boy's face and the girl looked like she was about to collapse.

"—I guess I just thought that maybe you could help…" her voice trailed off and she looked at me hopefully, like she was begging me to say yes.

Well, what was I going to do, say, "Sorry, I'm busy hanging out with my pet bird, please take your wounded friend elsewhere"?

With the way he looked, he might not make it with or without my help. But I didn't tell her that and I didn't bother to think about the fact that I didn't know who this girl was or what she was doing out here in the middle of the woods at a remote house that 99 percent of the Forks population couldn't find. Maybe I should have been more cautious, but all I could see was the blood.

So I just gritted my teeth, pushed the growing need to panic to the back of my mind, and asked her, "Can you help me get him inside?"

She looked like she was going to cry with relief, but she nodded and grabbed him under the arms while I hoisted his legs.

Now let me tell you, this was no lightweight guy. He had to be well over six feet and, while he was kind of on the slim side, you could tell he had some muscle on him.

It was like carrying a downed tree.

We maneuvered him into the living room and over to the couch I'd been resting against, kicking through the blankets and setting him down as gently as possible. We'd trailed a long line of blood through the house, thoroughly staining the Cullens' carpet. I hoped they would understand.

The girl ranted the whole time. She just couldn't seem to stop herself. "I'm really sorry about this, I swear I wouldn't have intruded if it hadn't been an emergency, but he weighs the same as a small beluga whale—I mean you've carried him, you know. Imagine hauling_ that_ two miles to the nearest hospital and you'll understand why I had to come here instead. And he's getting blood all over the place—sorry about your carpet, by the way—so I couldn't just hitch a ride—" And on and on and ON from there.

And I just sat there, my hands fluttering around not sure what to do with themselves. How did I deal with something like this? The first thing I would have liked to have done would be clean up all the blood, but since the guy was practically a geyser at this point I didn't think that would be possible and I didn't want to waste my time trying.

Alright. I needed a place to start and I couldn't fix what I couldn't see. I ran into the kitchen, my sore muscles forgotten, and found a first aid kit tucked under the sink.

"Help me get his shirt off," I commanded, hurrying back into the room. I had no idea what I was doing, but this girl and had come to me for help (God only knows why) and I had to at least _pretend _I knew what I was doing.

I glanced sideways at her as we picked and pulled the shreds of his jacket and shirt off of him. He hadn't made a whimper yet, but his eyes were clamped shut in a permanent cringe.

"Who are you?" I asked as I worked, just to avoid having to think.

"Katarina," she replied. "But I prefer Kat. It's not such a mouthful. And his name's Ben—oh, that doesn't look good."

The shirt was off. I recoiled in horror. There wasn't just one wound, but a group of huge gashes that went diagonally across his stomach and chest.

I gagged. Now would be a very, very bad time to throw up.

"I—I don't think I can…" I murmured, almost unable to finish, but forcing myself to. "I really don't think I can do anything for this. I can barely bandage my fingers when I get paper cuts!" I turned to the girl and asked, "What _happened_?"

The girl opened her mouth, then closed it. Then she opened it, took a deep breath—and closed it again.

"Kat!" the boy growled sharply.

"All right!" She grumbled, looking irritable. If I didn't catch her eyes darting worriedly toward the boy every few seconds, I would have thought she was oblivious to the blood covering herself and him. She was certainly not in hysterics.

"I sort of…kind of..." She peeked at me warily, then blurted, "I ran him over." Then she clamped her hands over her eyes. "With a motorcycle."

Hold on. Kat and Ben are shouting at each other again.

**  
3:53pm**

I swear, it's like baby-sitting two-year-olds. I don't know what they're fighting about this time, but by the time I got there, they were back to ignoring each other.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah.

So Kat explained to me that she'd accidentally K.O.'d the guy with, not just any motorcycle, but _his own_ motorcycle.

I did a mental double-take when she told me that. "Wait. You ran him over with _his own bike_? You _know _him?"

She looked surprised. "Of course. He's my boyfriend."

Of course he was. I put the heel of my hand to my left eye trying to stop the awful jack-hammering going on behind it. "Let me get this straight. You ran your boyfriend over with his own motorcycle?"

"Yes."

"And then you brought him here for me to fix?"

"Yes. Sorry."

I choked down the hysterical laughter that was bubbling up. Now was NOT the time for me to lose my sanity.

I would have ample time to do that later.

"Okay," I said wearily, not sure what else to do. "I'll clean him up the best I can, but I can't make any guarantees."

She sighed, relieved. "That's all I ask."

**  
3:57pm**

I tried Edward's phone again, but he's still not answering. When he has something to say he treats it like he's warning me of the apocalypse. The minute I've got news, he doesn't answer his phone.

Where's the justice, I ask you?

Ben's resting on the couch. I went through a lot of gauze and a lot of my very precious few marbles trying to stop the bleeding and in the end I did. I still can't say how I managed it, but I know I'll have to have Carlisle fix him properly when he gets back.

If he ever gets back. Why couldn't she have picked a day when everyone was home to run her boyfriend over?

So, this leaves me with a strange girl I'm not sure I can trust, a strange boy lying on my couch staring warily at Paddy like he thinks the duck is going to attack him, and not a lot of clues as to what the hell is going on.

Oh, and a crazily protective husband with a tendency to overreact on his way home to a house that now looks like the scene of a low-budget horror film, thanks to Ben and his gushing wounds.

If I hadn't just married a mythical creature yesterday, I might not have been fully equipped to deal with this situation.

But since I've basically been living in the Twilight Zone for the past year and a half, this is all just another bullet to add to my long list of reasons why I'm bound to be committed at the age of eighteen.

**  
4:00pm**

I asked Kat to explain to me again who she was, how she'd found this house, and how exactly she managed to run Ben over. She just keeps saying it was an accident, but she won't explain how it all happened, and every time I ask her about the wedding dress incident yesterday, she just blinks at me like I'm crazy. Maybe I am.

And Ben, who's lying on the couch with gauze wrapped around his lower chest, stomach, and left shoulder, is glaring heatedly at the back of her head.

I can feel the love.

I'll be right back. I need an aspirin.

**  
4:09pm**

So I've learned this much:

1) Kat and Ben are visiting Kat's Dad over in Seattle (chaperoned at all times, of course) for the summer.

2) She usually lives with her mother, who is traveling around Europe with her many strange friends.

3) Ben originates from Czechoslovakia, which is where they met, though he only has the barest trace of an accent.

And 4) Ben and Kat are currently in the middle of an explosive spat.

Which might explain why she RAN HIM OVER.

**  
4:11pm**

I explained to Kat about the Cullens (not _all_ of it, obviously) and how Edward would be home any moment, would see all the blood, and would probably blow a fuse and short-circuit himself.

She got all excited when I mentioned that I'd been married the day before.

She also finds it highly amusing that Ben seems to be deathly afraid of Paddy.

**  
4:15pm**

Did you know that no cleaning product (that doesn't contain some form of illegal acid) will get blood out of white carpet?

I did not know that.

I'm so dead.

**  
4:17pm**

Kat came back from the kitchen with a mug of hot liquid in her hands, which she thrust at Ben. He looked surprised.

"What is this?" he croaked, looking touched.

"Arsenic and vomit," she growled.

Oh. How sweet.

Obviously this if the kind of relationship that puts the "fun" in dysfunctional.

**  
4:19pm**

What is Edward doing? Running laps around the tri-state area? WHERE IS HE?

**  
4:20pm**

I've called Edward at least a dozen times. If he isn't home in the next ten minutes I'll—

**  
4:21pm**

Edward is home. Jasper and Emmett are with him.

I think I might be witnessing what a vampire having a heart attack actually looks like.

**  
4:25pm**

Okay, I probably should have met him out on the porch instead of waiting for him in the living room. It wouldn't have given him (and Emmett and Jasper) time to see all the blood I hadn't managed to clean up and freak out so badly I could only explain what was going on after both he and Emmett had done a thorough, ten-minute inspection of every visible part of my body. Even Jasper looked relieved when my clean bill of health was ascertained, though he stood far back and didn't look like he was breathing. I hadn't realized that the blood might effect him.

When Edward was done and I'd managed to get out that none of the blood was mine, he held my upper arms and rested his forehead against my shoulder.

"Bella," he whispered. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were trying to kill me again."

I cringed. "I know. But I promise, none of this was my fault this time." I turned toward the couch where Ben and Kat were peering curiously at us. "This is Kat." Kat waved. "And this is Ben." Ben sat there. "Kat ran Ben over with a motorcycle, so I patched him up. See. Not my fault."

Edward blinked. That's all. Just blinked.

Emmett burst out laughing.


	8. Inquisition

Alright, I got this one out by my 48 hour deadline, because my manic reviewer **songreader** put the fear in me. Death-threat reviews are surprisingly effective...but it's really hard to write when you're constantly looking over your shoulder and jumping at small noises. Anyway, here it is.

And I apologize for the ridiculously long entry with Alice, but...you know you love her.

* * *

**  
10:20pm**

I guess Edward's return triggered some kind of chain reaction, because the remaining four Cullens found their way home within the hour.

Carlisle had gone to the hospital to visit one of his patients who had called him in hysterics, insisting she had found a tumor in her foot. Esme had driven down to Olympia to pick up an antique vase she'd found online. And Alice and Rosalie really _had_ had a good reason for leaving me alone to fend for myself for the day.

They were buying me a car.

It was Alice's idea, but Rosalie tagged along to make sure it was in perfect condition.

They forgot about it for a while when they came back planning to surprise me and found me and Esme on all fours scrubbing blood off the porch. Things like that have a way of detracting from the surprise gift-giving mood, though Alice didn't seem as surprised as she should. She'd probably seen the whole thing and _still_ not come home to help. Thanks, Alice.

I'd taken one look at the sleek, black, _expensive_ looking piece of machinery and told them to turn it right back around and drive it back to whichever car salesman they'd made deliriously happy that day. I'm serious, this thing looked like someone's college tuition on wheels.

"I knew you'd say that," Alice said. Of course she had. "But I also know what you'll say when I tell you that I did _not_ get my dream wedding yesterday. Therefore, the whole reason for you doing it—to make me happy and let me have a lttle fun for once—has been defeated. Are you really going to deny me again? Don't you care at all how much it hurts me to—?"

I groaned and slapped a hand over my eyes--then regretted it, because I had Clorox all over my hands and my eyes started burning.

But that was all the answer Alice needed.

"Yay!" she bounced up onto the porch and scooped my up in a hug that cracked three vertebrae. "So…how long are they staying?"

Oh yeah. Our unexpected guests. "I don't know. Carlisle's looking him over again now, so I guess you'll have to ask him. By the way, my rib cage is stabbing my lung, so if you could--"

She finally let go and took one step toward the front door, then said, "Nevermind."

I rolled my eyes and was about to ask what the verdict was when Carlisle stepped outside. "We'll keep him over night. You did an…interesting job bandaging him, Bella, and I'm very proud that you managed to do so even with all the blood. Thank you."

I flushed and nodded. "But wouldn't it be better to take him to the hospital?"

"Actually, the wounds weren't as bad as I would have expected, considering the amount of blood he lost. I'm surprised. It's not even infected. It will leave a few scars, certainly, but he should be just fine in a few days and I had Katarina call her father and tell him where they were. We'll drive them both home tomorrow. A visit to the hospital shouldn't be necessary."

"A week or two?" I'd seen those wounds. They weren't exactly small. I hadn't even thought he would survive! "Are you sure?"

Carlisle smiled kindly. "Maybe the severity of the bleeding misled you, but the gashes were only scratches, really."

"_Scratches_?" Okay, now I _knew_ we weren't talking about the same guy. There might have been blood all over him, but I had seen the gashes and they weren't _scratches_.

But I didn't bother to argue the point. Carlisle was the doctor, and if he said Ben would be fine, then I was sure Ben would be fine.

Just then raised voices shattered the quiet outside and then there was the sound of breaking glass and Ben screaming.

I take it back. Ben will recover all right…if Kat doesn't kill him first.

**  
10:22pm**

But it turned out that Kat had only gotten a hold of Paddy and held him up to Ben's face while he was resting.

Ben had taken a flying leap over the back of the couch and knocked over a lamp.

So he wasn't dead.

But you haven't seen funny until you've seen a six-or-so-foot guy running away from a girl brandishing a duck.

**  
10:25pm**

So now I'm upstairs, in bed, feeling like I've just run around the entire state of Washington twice. I'm that exhausted.

After I made Edward carry me up to our room (there was no _way_ I was climbing those stupid stairs again), which he'd been all-too-glad to do, he'd hurried back down to talk with Jasper or Carlisle or someone about…something. I forget what. I don't think I was listening. Actually, I'm sure that I wasn't.

I'd changed into a pair of pajamas I was borrowing from him (they're way too big, but they smell like Edward, so what do I care?) and crawled into bed, prepared for a long night of sleeping like the dead.

I'd been out for what felt like seconds when something I couldn't name woke me up. I don't know if it was intuition or just that dark shivery feeling you get when you know there's evil in the room. But when I turned over to see who was staring at me, I nearly screamed.

Alice sat cross legged on the bedspread, watching me intently. And beside her, looking bored, was Rosalie.

"What are you _doing_?" I asked groggily.

Alice stared at me some more, then sighed, then shifted, then sighed again. "Well, Rosalie and I—"

"Don't include me in this," Rosalie interrupted. "I want no part of your perversion. I'm just here to make sure you don't break out the thumbscrews if she won't talk."

Alice scoffed. "We're just going to have a nice, sisterly chat. Bella and I never get to have girl talks."

I groaned. "Do you think we could keep it that way?"

Alice looked hurt.

I sighed. "Fine, what do you want to talk about at _ten o'clock at night_?"

Alice smiled. "Oh, nothing too serious…you know, girl stuff. Periods, boys…" she looked up innocently and mumbled, "…wedding nights."

I gasped and sat up as comprehension dawned. "Is that what this is about?"

"No, its just girl talk," she insisted, not trying very hard to stifle her grin.

"First of all, you don't have periods because you're dead. Second, you don't have any boys to talk about because you're married. And third, I am not telling you about my wedding night because I don't want to die of mortification. So if you value you my life, you'll agree that this girl talk is officially over." I rolled over and pull the covers up over my head

"Oh, come one, Bella, don't be that way," Alice pleaded, throwing herself on top of me and peeling back the covers so she could look at me. I clenched my eyes shut against the awesome, heart-melting power of her Bambi eyes.

"No!" I shouted.

"Come on!"

"No!"

"Please! Pretty please!"

"No!" I sat up, pushing her off so suddenly a normal person would have been thrown over the side of the bed. Alice just settled gracefully back into her cross-legged staring position. "Alice, there is a half-dead stranger sleeping in our guest room and I spent the better part of the afternoon wading through a sea of bodily fluids. And now that I've finally got a chance to take a break from all the crazy, you want to pry into one of my most intimate moments with Edward?"

"Yes," Alice confirmed, completely unashamed.

I leaned close and whispered, "No." Then pulled the covers back over my head.

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Alice sighed heavily. "Fine. Ruin my fun." I sensed more than felt her weight leave the bed. "I guess I'll just have to settle for the bits and pieces Jasper told me about it."

I clawed the sheet away from my face. "Jasper? What would _Jasper_ know about it?"

She shrugged, looking innocently over her shoulder at me. "You didn't think the boys went all the way to Mexico just to hunt, did you?"

"Um…_yes_."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, they didn't. Good night, Bella."

"ALICE!"

She suddenly appeared on the bed again, beside Rosalie who hadn't moved and didn't look like she gave a rip.

"Yeeees?" Alice sang.

Evil, I tell you, she is four feet, ten inches of pure EVIL.

I glared at her. "What. Did. He. Say?"

Alice was enjoying being on the other end of the interrogation now. "Not too much. Edward was very close-lipped, and trying to get what he DID say from Jasper was like pulling teeth from an overly-loyal horse."

I mentally bumped Jasper down a few slots on my People To Kill list. Which put him a good few spaces down from Edward, my soon-to-be-sorry husband.

Wow, that word is getting a lot easier to say.

Anyway, Alice was grinning so wide I thought her face might crack. "Well…" she drawled, tracing patterns on my bedspread. Her eyes darted quickly toward Rosalie, who sighed.

"Just tell her," she muttered, inspecting one of her fingernails. "She's going to find out eventually and kill him anyway. You know you can't keep a secret."

"Hey," Alice protested. "I've been dead for 90 years and managed to keep it a secret. Look me in the eye and tell me that's not talent."

Rosalie didn't bother.

"Alice, if you don't tell me what you know _right now_ I will never let you buy me anything ever again."

She looked horrified at the very idea. "Alright, alright. He let slip that you're a…um…" I could tell she was trying to choke back a grin. "You're a screamer."

I nearly swallowed my tongue. I'd apparently reached the physical limit of blushing, because my whole face went completely numb instead.

Edward hadn't. He wouldn't have…couldn't have…he was not that stupid. I'd misheard her.

Oh, who was I kidding? HE'D TOLD THEM.

"That—!" For the sole purpose of keeping this journal as clean as humanly possible, I won't bother to relate all of the names I called him. Let's just say that even Rosalie had to turn and gawk at my foul language and I may have to apologize to Esme tomorrow for inadvertently insulting her when I called him a son of a—

Well, you know.

"How dare he?!" I ranted, trying to forget my mortification.

"Bella, calm down," Alice said. "I told you, Edward was totally tight-lipped. He let that one slip completely by accident. Just don't hurt him too badly when he gets up here, okay?"

"I make no promises," I growled.

Rosalie snorted. "Well, at least your husband won't be the only one getting in trouble tonight. I'll have to have a little talk with Emmett about contaminating your vocabulary. I know you didn't learn those words from Edward."

I smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

"Forget about that," Alice said impatiently, waving the subject away. "Now that we're already talking about it…please tell me about your wedding night."

I hesitated and she rolled her eyes. "I'm not asking for the X-rated IMAX version. Just tell me if it was what you expected."

I wasn't sure how to pick my way through the events of last night without giving away anything embarrassing. I wanted to ask Alice if what I'd felt that night was normal, but now that I was face to face with her I didn't think I could do it.

So I just said, "It was…nice."

Alice crossed her arms. "Nice? That's all you're going to give me?"

"Alice, what am I supposed to tell you?"

Apparently she'd been waiting for this exact question, because she unrolled a mental list three meters long. "Was it awkward at first? Did he go fast or slow? Did he ever lose control? He didn't bruise you did he? How many times did you—?"

"Alice!" I interrupted. "He's your brother!"

"So what? I'm not allowed to know?" She scoffed again. "Look Bella, before you came along Edward was always so bookish and anti-social. I always thought he was kind of…asexual. It's hard for me to imagine him…having sex." The look on her face was incredulous enough to make me believe it.

"Yeah," Rosalie chimed in. "Before he met you, we thought he was gay."

"Rosalie! We did not!"

"Well, I sure did," she grumbled.

I laughed at the two of them, but something inside me felt the need to defend Edward. "I may not have much to compare it to, but for his first time, I think he did…exceptionally well." Alice raised an eyebrow, as if to say "Oh, he did, did he?" I rolled my eyes. "His having the grace of two people in one kind of balanced out my having all the grace of a wooden spoon."

"Answer all the questions, in order," Alice commanded.

I sighed. "Fine, but after this—"

"I promise I'll let you sleep and I won't badger you until tomorrow."

"Until tomorrow?" I whined. "Alice—"

"I can only control myself to a certain point and I'm not even going to be able to sleep away most of those hours of anticipation. Meet me halfway."

I didn't like it, but there wasn't much I could do except catch as much sleep as possible before tomorrow's inquisition. "Fine. No, it wasn't awkward. We sort of, simultaneously jumped each other. I meant to ask you about that, but it can wait for tomorrow—no!" I held up my hand as she opened her mouth to plead with me. "Tomorrow. As for his pace, please don't make me answer that. I only have so much dignity left to me. He was really, really careful about his control and, as you can see, he didn't kill me. I haven't checked for bruises, so I don't know about that, but if I do have any, I'm certainly not going to tell him about them. And…" I paused over the last question. I really did think my head was going to explode. I probably looked like a tomato with hair at this point. "I kind of lost count."

Alice's jaw went slack.

"Don't you dare ask me about it," I said firmly. "I have no comment."

"But—"

"Out." I pointed at the door. "You've had your fun, now go."

"Fine," she grumbled, trudging toward the door. "But I'll be back first thing in the morning."

"Alice…"

"Fine, first thing in the afternoon! You're lucky I love you." She huffed out.

In the silence that followed, I realized that Rosalie hadn't made any move to follow her.

"Um…was there something else?" I asked cautiously. She wasn't exactly facing me, had been sitting casually on the edge of the bed with her back to me the whole time, but she turned to look at me now.

"Bella," she began, then halted. "I…I'm really…" She took a deep breath. "I'm really happy for you and Edward. I really, really am."

"Th-thanks," I stammered. The amount of "really"s she'd put into that sentence did a good job of convincing me.

She nodded and left.

This whole family is full of weirdos.

But I love them all. Every last, weird one of them.

**  
11:05pm**

Edward is still downstairs, which means that I can't sleep. I keep nodding off, then waking up every time I roll over and don't bump into him. What's he doing down there, planning a siege?

This isn't helping towards getting him off my People To Kill list.

**  
11:09pm**

The door opened during one of my brief periods of lying in the dark with my face buried in Edward's pillow.

I looked up, relieved that I would finally be getting some sleep, when I saw that it wasn't who I'd been expecting.

"Hey, are you still awake?" Kat whispered, inching into the room. "I know it's late, but this house is huge. I couldn't find your room."

I sat up warily, pushing the shoulder of Edward's shirt back up where it had slipped down. "Hello. Did you need something?"

I could see Kat's tentative smile in the bright moonlight. "I just wanted to thank you again for helping us. Most people would have panicked or thought I was crazy, showing up on their doorstep like that. If it weren't for you, Ben might be…" She trailed off, pulling nervously at the bottom of her T-shirt. I could see that someone had found a new shirt for her to replace the bloodied one.

"From the way you two were going at it, I wouldn't have thought you'd mind," I murmured, trying not to laugh as the image of Ben backing slowly away from Kat and Paddy popped into my head again.

Kat smiled. "Yeah. We fight sometimes. Well, a lot actually. But, believe it or not, I love the big dummy. He's pig-headed and has these insufferable he-man tendencies, but I love him. I guess he's just old-fashioned."

"I know what you mean," I whispered, warming to her. She had no idea _how_ old-fashioned Edward could be.

"Yeah, well. Goodnight." She waved and closed the door.

"Kat," I called.

She poked her head back around the frame. "Yes?"

"Are you ever going to tell me what you were doing tromping around the forest in that dress yesterday?"

She suddenly looked down, biting her lip. "I can't. I want to, but…I promise you'll find out soon. G'night."

I probably would have spent a while brooding over that last foreboding sentence, but something else was on my mind. I almost hadn't caught it, because the room had been so shadowed, but when she'd talked about Ben, she'd gotten the strangest look on her face. I recognized it, too. I'm pretty sure that's the look I have on my face every time I talk about Edward.

I guess love does come in many forms.

Even violent ones.

I smiled to myself and snuggled back under the covers.

**  
11:16pm**

And then I remembered that I couldn't sleep and decided that Edward's name was going to start being associated with a significantly less pleasant facial expression VERY SOON.

**  
11:17pm**

Maybe I'll just try to hold still while I sleep. If I don't roll over, maybe I won't notice that Edward isn't there.

It's worth a shot.

**  
11:18pm**

I _can't_ stop rolling over. It's an ingrained habit. If I sleep on one side too long, I get uncomfortable and wake up. But every time I roll over, I wake up anyway.

I just can't win.

**  
11:23pm**

Alright, I tried sleeping on Edward's side of the bed, hoping my subconscious would be satisfied and stay put.

Instead, I rolled off the side of the bed. Now my hip is bruised _and_ I can't sleep.

If Edward's not here in ten minutes, we're getting a divorce.

I'm too tired to know if I'm joking or not.

**  
11:32pm**

I woke from one of my brief periods of sleep to Edward tracing circles on my stomach.

I think I forgive him. I can't really remember what I was angry about. Can't remember my name, either.

It's 'B'-something, I know it is…

**  
11:36pm**

I was almost completely asleep when something occurred to me.

"Edward," I mumbled into his neck.

"Yes?" he whispered, stroking my hair.

"Can we keep the duck?"


	9. Recovery

You guys seemed frighteningly intrigued by the idea of death-threat reviews. I particularly liked the one by **dreams-in-elvish**. Strange, but original. Oh, and we've crossed the hundred-reviews line. Huzzah!

This chapter was aptly named because it's the day after Ben's accident and I figured Bella needed a recovery day from all the craziness.

I also like to think of it as the calm before the storm.

* * *

Day 4, Sunday  
**9:45am**

I almost can't believe it. We get to keep Paddy!

Edward discussed it with Carlisle and Esme this morning before I woke up and they said it would be fine. Strange. But fine.

I always thought that when I got a pet, it would be something normal, like a cat or a dog. But a wedding-crashing duck is so much more interesting, don't you think?

Edward isn't exactly thrilled. Actually, I could have sworn I heard him mumbling something about an 'after-dinner snack'.

So I made sure _he_ heard_ me_ mumble something about him sleeping on the couch for the next hundred years if he even THOUGHT about eating my duck.

Not a sentence I ever thought I would utter, but then again, I never thought I'd marry a dead guy either. Life's just full of little surprises.

**  
9:46am**

Just thought of something. What exactly do ducks eat?

**  
9:47am**

When I woke up earlier this morning, it was to see Edward leaning on one elbow, staring at me.

_Why_ do people keep doing that?

"What is it?" I mumbled. I yawned and stretched, trying to rub the sleep from my eyes.

When I looked back at him, he had this awful, adoring look on his face. "Don't you dare," I commanded.

He looked confused. "What?"

"I know that look," I insisted, sitting up to glare at him. "You're going to call me cute or adorable, or some variations of the words cute and adorable. Don't."

Edward smiled. "But you_ are_ adorable."

I threw my hands up. I'm adding 'can't take direction' to his list of faults. It needs some more bullets. It's kind of a short list.

"What's wrong with you being adorable?" Edward looked genuinely incredulous. The poor, ignorant man.

"What girl wants to hear that she's _cute_ from her husband?" I asked, trying to pound some logic into his head. "There are plenty of descriptive words a newly wed woman would love to hear, but 'cute' is most definitely not one of them."

"Fine," Edward conceded. "I think you are magnificent, beautiful, extraordinary, brilliant, intelligent, a bit bizarre, sometimes silly, and—" He kissed my forehead "—indescribably sexy. But _never_ cute. How about that?"

I waited a moment, then half-shrugged, half-nodded. "I can live with that."

He's learning.

**  
9:50am**

I was heading downstairs to get some breakfast (all of this excitement was taking a serious toll on my diet) when Edward stopped me with a warning.

"Bella, I don't want you to be alone with those two."

I turned to look at him, surprised. "Who? Kat and Ben?"

He nodded. "I don't trust them."

"But…why not? Kat's a bigger klutz than _me_. She ran her boyfriend over with a motorcycle! And Ben…Ben is afraid of ducks!"

Edward sighed. "I know, but there's something about them I don't like."

"Something like…?"

He ran an agitated hand through his hair. "I can't hear what they're thinking."

I didn't know what to say to that. "You mean you can't hear them like you can't hear me?" Was it wrong for me to feel disappointed that I wasn't the only one anymore? I think it was. But whatever.

"Not exactly."

I deliberated on that for a moment, then turned around, grabbed Edward's hand and sat him back down on the bed.

"Okay, explain."

"Alright," he began. "How do I explain this in a way that will make sense? When I look into other people's minds, it's like I'm in a dark room, lined with endless rows of windows. Through each window I can see something different, something no one else can see. But when I look for your window, there's nothing there. It's like whoever made the room forgot to put a window in that one spot."

"Great," I grumbled. "I'm defective."

"_Listen_, Bella. It's different when I look for _them_. Instead of no window, it's as if I'm looking through a window made of frosted glass. I can see that there's something there, but I can't make it out. It's like they're blocking me."

"Can they _do_ that?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. But until I figure out what it is about them that's keeping me out of their thoughts, could you please stay with me or Alice or _someone_ when they're around?"

I shrugged. "I guess."

Edward was opening his mouth to say something else when there was a loud knock on the door.

"You have two hours!"

I groaned.

Alice.

**  
10:00am**

Downstairs watching Emmett and Alice play a ferociously competitive racing video game. And they refuse to limit their battle to the TV screen.

Emmett has pushed Alice over at least three times and Alice keeps knocking his controller out of his hand with her foot.

At times like these it's very hard to remember that they're both over 70 years old.

Everyone except Esme and Carlisle (and our guests) is in the living room. Carlisle got called down to the hospital _again_. Esme is in the kitchen cooking up God-knows-what for lunch later. Kat and Ben are probably still asleep, although for all we know, Ben could be stuck on the stairs again. He _refused_ to accept help up to the guest room on the second floor last night, even by Kat, which resulted in half the Cullen clan watching cautiously as he tottered his way up the stairs, panting and weaving like a drunk man.

Kat was definitely not kidding about his pig-headedness.

Anyway, Esme made me breakfast. I'm amazed that a woman that sweet could make something so disgusting. It's the stuff of nightmares, her cooking.

I don't know how she managed to make bacon that tastes like plastic and a batch of pancakes hard enough to chip teeth, but somehow she did just that. I'll never tell her that though. I don't want to hurt her feelings. So here I sit, on the couch next to an amused Edward, smiling as I eat yet _another_ pancake, trying to pretend it's not just like chewing glass.

These meals at the Cullen house would be so much easier if Esme could actually taste what she cooked. But at least this is better than the time she'd tried to make chili and added a can of jalapeño peppers, two bottles of hot sauce, and half the container of chili powder.

My tongue swelled up to twice its size and I couldn't taste anything for a week.

**  
10:06am**

Alice keeps turning around from her game and staring pointedly at me. If she does it again, I'm taking off my slipper and throwing it at her.

**  
10:08am**

Emmett laughed so hard when my bunny slipper went sailing across the room at Alice's head, he lost the game.

Alice looked mildly offended at having footwear thrown at her, but conceded. "Fine," she huffed. "Just don't think you're off the hook."

I glared.

Edward looked curious.

"Trust me," I mumbled, "you don't want to know."

**  
10:15am**

Ben and Kat have made their way downstairs. Ben looks a lot better now, can even walk without slouching like an old man.

When they got close enough for me to hear what they were saying, I realized that they were fighting…again.

I'm starting to think arguing is something they enjoy doing the way other couples enjoy kissing.

I felt Edward tense behind me and discreetly elbowed him in the stomach. One of these days, I'll be able to do that without it hurting my elbow.

"That makes no sense," Kat was saying. She paused awkwardly at the edge of the group of couches until I waved toward the chair opposite me and Edward. Jasper was stretched out on the sofa perpendicular to ours reading a very large, very old, very _boring_-looking book. He didn't seem to care that Emmett, who could probably squish Alice if he wasn't careful enough, had rolled over on top of her and was playing the game on his stomach while she shouted muffled curses into the carpet.

Rosalie was curled up in the small gap of space at end of the couch near Jasper's feet, half of her attention focused on controlling her husband, the other half on the laptop she was using to comb the internet for some car part she needed.

"What do you mean, 'it doesn't make sense'?" Ben asked, throwing himself on the remaining empty sofa. His long legs hit the arm rest at the other end and I had to once again wonder why it was that I was constantly surrounded by freakishly tall people.

I suddenly appreciated Alice much more. If only she weren't insane…

"I mean, that you can't drive it if you're injured," Kat said, her chin jutting out stubbornly as she dropped to the floor in front of him, spotting the corner of a magazine poking out from beneath the chair and pulling it out to skim through it.

"You know that won't be a problem," Ben grumbled. "Dr. Carlisle said I'll be fine in a few days."

"Well, we're not going home in a few days, we're going home today, and unless you want to end up splattered all over the pavement again, someone _capable_ has to drive the motorcycle."

I couldn't help but interrupt. "Are you guys talking about _the_ motorcycle? The one that…" I waved my hand back and forth between the two of them, hoping they got my point.

Kat nodded. "Yep. And Ben is idiotic enough to think he can drive it home in his condition."

"You mean the motorcycle survived the crash?" Edward asked quietly. I was surprised he had spoken to them at all, considering his aversion to their closed minds.

Kat looked a bit surprised too. "Um…yeah, it did. It got a few scratches, but trust me, Ben's bike has endured all sorts of incidents. It's how we met actually." She laughed. "Ironically enough, _he_ nearly ran_ me_ over with it."

"The operative word here being 'nearly'," Ben snapped. "You crossed a _very_ important line when you actually made impact."

These two just kept getting more and more bizarre.

"So you know where it is?" I wanted to know. "You're sure no one took it?"

Kat waved that away. "Oh, no, Ben made me hide it in the woods before I went to find help."

Then, there was silence. What did a person say to something like that?

I gave it a shot, turning to Ben. "You made her hide your motorcycle while you were...what? Lying in the middle of the road with your spleen hanging out?"

Kat rolled her eyes, speaking for him. "Pretty much. If there's one thing Ben loves more than anything else in the world, it's his bike."

"That's not true," Ben mumbled, looking at the top of her head.

Kat rolled her eyes. "Don't try to butter me up, mister. You're not driving that bike home. Don't even argue with me. It's no longer up for discussion."

Ben looked like he thoroughly disagreed but a loud, pained grunt from the front of the room had us all looking toward Alice and Emmett.

Alice had managed to squirm out from under him and was now sitting on his back, working her controller with one hand and using the other to keep his arm pinned behind him. Every time he moved, she pulled it higher, until it was at a nearly impossible angle.

I heard the faint sound of Jasper chuckling from behind his huge volume.

"Fine," Ben finally grumbled, giving in with as little grace as was humanly possible. "Just remember who wears the pants in this relationship."

Without looking up from her magazine, Kat replied, "Just remember that I know sixteen different ways to break your jaw."

Ben shut up.

I may have been imagining things, but I thought I heard Jasper murmur, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think she just stole your pants."

**  
10:25am**

I asked Kat how long she and Ben were staying. She says her Dad went crazy when he heard what she'd done and had insisted that Carlisle not be put through the trouble of driving them all the way back to Seattle. Apparently, he's coming to pick them up later this afternoon.

"He thanked Carlisle at least twenty times," she told me. "He would hate to inconvenience him further, so looks like we'll be here for a while. At least, until two when Dad gets here to drag his delinquent daughter off to the gallows."

Well. He sounds like a pleasant guy.

**  
10:33am**

This is the first time in days that I've had a moment to sit quietly and think about things without some kind of catastrophe falling on my head.

So, of course, my mind wandered to things that Edward hadn't bothered to remind me of: My change.

Now that the wedding was over...actually, it kind of felt anticlimactic. Like, now that we're married, we just do the exact same things we did before, except I get to tell other people he's my husband. Of course, I haven't left the house since the wedding, so I haven't even had a chance to do that.

But there_ is_ that one activity we can participate in that we didn't before…

Mmm. Happy thoughts.

Of course, now that one hurdle is out of the way, there's that other small matter of my _death_. I want to ask Edward when we're going to get around to that and where exactly it is on his To Do list, but I don't want him moping around the house for the rest of the week, mourning my death before it's even happened.

So, maybe I'll just give him today. We can talk about it tomorrow.

Whether he wants to or not.

**  
10:36am**

I also haven't had time to think about Jacob. Did he know that I was married now? Well, I guess he had to. Charlie and Billy still talk and Charlie had probably mentioned the date.

I feel sad that I haven't been able to see him. I miss him. He's still my friend…I think. At least, he was.

I burrowed closer to Edward, and he tightened his grip.

I wish Jacob could have understood, though. Edward and I just _fit_. And I'm not sure I agree with his description of Edward, as a drug I can't get enough of. I've always thought of Jacob as my sun, but when Edward had left, it had been strange. Like I could see the sun's beauty and it would light things up so the world wouldn't be so dark. It made doing things easier.

But I couldn't _feel_ it. There was no warmth getting through, and I was left with all that beauty and light, completely numb inside.

It was like only Edward could turn on the sun.

I might feel bad about hurting Jacob, but if I could do it all over again, I wouldn't have chosen differently.

As if he could sense my thoughts, Edward planted a sweet kiss on top of my head.

No, I wouldn't have chosen differently at all. Not ever.

**  
10:37am**

Speaking of things I've forgotten, when was the last time I took a shower?

**  
10:41am**

I discreetly bent my head and took a little whiff of my armpit. If my nose could have curled up into the fetal position, it would have.

I smelled like someone's dirty gym bag!

So I did the only thing I could. I turned and punched Edward in the arm.

He raised his eyebrows at me, as I shook the sting out of my hand.

"Why didn't you tell me I stink?" I hissed. I don't know why I bothered. Everyone in the room, except maybe Kat and Ben, could hear me anyway.

"You don't stink," Edward replied.

What was this, the if-all-else-fails-deny-everything tactic?

"Really? So you're trying to tell me that my sense of smell is so off that I can't tell when I smell like a foot?"

"That's not what I'm saying. You just smell like _you_ to me." He bent down and sniffed my shoulder. "Alright, maybe you smell a bit more like you right there, but it's not a bad smell. It's your smell."

I don't know if that's man logic or vampire logic, but I'm going to go shower. NOW.

**  
10:53am**

In the bathroom. My legs are kind of stubbly, too. I'll do those after I shower.

**  
11:16am**

I feel so much better. I didn't realize I still had blood under my nails from yesterday. Ick.

I don't know how Edward could say I didn't smell.

Are all guys born with noses that can't smell stink?

**  
11:18am**

Now where are my razors?

**  
11:20am**

I'm looking forward to not having to do this anymore. I've never been able to finish it without nicking myself at least once.

Sometimes I just don't bother. No one's going to see my legs anyway. And me and shorts don't exactly mix.

But now that Edward and I are…um…you know, I don't want to end up looking like a Yeti. Or like I'm trying to grow a rug.

**  
11:21am**

Oh, crap! Oh, God, I'm hemorrhaging.

Note to self: DO NOT think about Edward while handling sharp objects.

**  
11:25am**

Edward just knocked on the door.

"Bella?" he called. "Why are you bleeding? I could smell it from downstairs. Did you trip again?"

I rolled my eyes. I was sitting on the floor, dabbing at the small gash on the underside of my leg. "No, I'm fine. I just nicked myself shaving."

"Alright," he said. "Just try not to kill yourself."

"I'll do my best," I grumbled.

Why does everyone feel the need to make jokes at my expense? WHY?

**  
11:34am**

Wandered back downstairs and tripped over the coffee table, yet again.

Emmett, who was sitting on the couch now, watching Alice race against Edward, chuckled. "You'd think after tripping over it twenty-seven times, she'd have realized it was there by now."

"You've been keeping count?" I asked.

He just grinned.

**  
11:49am**

Twelve o'clock is approaching frighteningly fast. Between Alice's promised interrogation and having to endure whatever Esme has cooked up for lunch, I may not survive the day.

And it's no use wondering if Alice has somehow forgotten. She's started turning around and staring again, but now she's also making sidelong glances at Edward, who looks appropriately wary.

And something else weird has caught my attention. The later it gets, the jumpier Kat seems to be.

First it started with her tapping her foot. Tap-tap-tap-tap non-stop for ten minutes. Then the fidgeting kind of migrated to the rest of her body and she started bouncing in place. She wasn't even pretending to read the magazine anymore.

Now she's up and pacing around the sofa Ben is on.

"Would you sit _down_," Ben growls, grabbing her as she passes behind the couch and hauling her onto his lap.

"Sorry," she mumbles. But her foot is still tapping.

How sadistic must her Dad be for her to be that worried about his arrival?

I'm just realizing how lucky I am to have Charlie, the guy who skipped every page of the chapter on 'Tough Love' in the parenting handbook.

**  
11:59am**

Sigh. Let the pain and suffering begin.

**  
12:05pm**

Edward protested mildly when Alice started to drag me off, despite my objections.

"Edward, control your sister," I demanded.

"Don't you dare!" Alice warned.

Edward looked at us, then held his hands up and backed away. "I honestly have no idea which one of you I'm more afraid of."

"Ha!" Alice cried, and half-dragged, half-carried me out of the room.

**  
12:15pm**

Sitting at the island counter in the kitchen. Esme is up to her elbows in flour.

"I'm sorry lunch isn't done yet," she apologized, rolling a huge lump of dough. "I just have to finish defrosting the chicken and steaming the vegetables. I guess it might have to be dinner after all. Can you wait that long?"

"I could wait forever," I told her smiling, but not joking at all. I could go every day of the rest of my life without eating her cooking and die happy.

She smiled and turned back to dough, inspecting her cookbook as she went.

"So," Alice started. She was hopping all over the chair across from me. "I know I asked most of the important stuff yesterday, but Jasper told me something else."

"I thought you said Edward only let that one thing slip," I gasped, trying to be quiet, since the kitchen wasn't so far from the living room. I also didn't feel like talking about this particular subject in front of Esme.

Alice must have caught me glancing at her because she waved her hand in dismissal. "Esme doesn't mind. She's been with Carlisle for ages. They have sex all the time. Right Esme?"

"Of course," Esme said cheerfully, slicing broccoli with perfect precision.

My face flamed.

I'll take Things I Never Wanted To Know About My Mother-In-Law for five-hundred, Alex.

I would definitely look at Esme a little differently from now on.

"And, anyway, Edward didn't tell me this one," Alice continued. "Jasper said he felt some really weird emotions from you during the wedding."

"Jasper needs to leave me and my emotions alone," I grumbled.

"He can't exactly help it. And he tries to keep them to himself. But he says you were really, _really_—"

"That was what I meant to ask you about," I said. "I thought that was, maybe…normal?"

"The urge to throw yourself on your husband? Yes. Feeling that urge with _that_ much intensity? Not really."

"Oh." Fabulous. I'm a lust-crazed maniac.

"I would ask you what that was all about, but obviously you don't know." Alice sighed. "So, on to the next subject."

This time, she actually _did_ unroll a list.

I groaned and dropped my head on the table.

**  
12:36pm**

I can't take this anymore! Where does Alice come up with some of this stuff?

Luckily she's distracted, trying to help Esme beat down the flames that erupted around the pot she was cooking the vegetables in.

For some reason, she seems to think the smoke alarm and the timer are the same thing.

**  
12:39pm**

Kat has extended her pacing range. She just stalked past me, muttering to herself. I'm having flashbacks to Alice on my wedding day.

Alice is still over at the stove with Esme, trying to convince her not to use the charred vegetables in her dinner anyway.

God save me.

**  
12:40pm**

I grabbed Kat's arm as she passed through the kitchen again.

"Relax," I said. "He can't be that scary."

She looked at me, confused. "He?"

"Your dad. That's why you're freaking out right? You think your dad's going to be angry about what you did?"

Was I wrong?

But Kat's face cleared in comprehension. "Yeah. I'm going to be grounded for weeks."

Alice suddenly appeared again, leaning forward to whisper, "Alright, so Esme has decided to remake the vegetables, but I just saw her reaching for the cocoa powder, so I don't know if I've made it better or worse."

"She's making chocolate-covered broccoli?" I asked.

"Nope. Chicken pot pie."

I actually whimpered.

"Um, Bella?" Kat prodded, interrupting my pity party. "Do you have a lot of food here?"

I shrugged. "I guess. Esme likes to cook for me. Every day. Every _single_ day." I rubbed a hand over my eyes, thinking about the chocolate-chicken pot pie I was going to have to choke down. My stomach was putting together picket signs in protest. "Why? Are you hungry?"

"Oh!" Kat shook her head. "No. I was just…wondering."

"Okay…" Then something occurred to me. "Hey, do you want to sit down?"

Alice shot me a glare that should have left singed patches in my hair. I beamed at her.

Kat looked a bit startled. "O-okay. Sure." She sat down. "What are you talking about?"

I don't know why I thought Kat's presence would stop Alice from asking any more embarrassing questions. It must have been all that smoke I'd inhaled while Esme was making flambé.

Instead of stopping, though, Alice turned to Kat. "I apologize if this seems strange, and I know we don't really know each other, but you and Ben seem very close. Have you two ever had sex?"

I choked. On what, I don't know, but I _choked_. "Alice!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm not letting you off the hook that easily. If you want to pull her into this discussion, she's all the way in. Sorry, Kat." Alice gave an apologetic smile to Kat, who laughed.

"That's alright. It's nice to be included. And, no, Ben and I haven't ever…"

"Why not?"

"Alice!"

She leaned forward. "She's _all the way in_."

"You don't have to answer that," I told Kat. "Really, we're working on finding a therapist that will take her. She ate the last one."

"It's alright. I'm actually not the one objecting to it," she grumbled. "It's Ben and his stupid morals. He doesn't think I'm ready."

Oh my God, we were soul sisters!

"I had that same problem with Edward," I admitted. "Up until recently."

Kat looked like she was clutching desperately at a life raft. "How did you change his mind?"

"Well…I just used my natural womanly wiles to entice him. Oh, and I married him."

She sighed. "Ben says I'm not ready to be bound to him like that. By sex, I mean."

Alice raised her eyebrows. "Wow. He takes that very seriously, doesn't he?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

Just then Rosalie wandered into the kitchen. "Why does it smell like burnt chocolate in here?"

"Esme's making dinner," I mumbled.

Rosalie looked toward Esme, who was covered from head to toe in brown and white smudges from the flour and cocoa powder. "Uh-huh. Well, I just came in to tell you that your bird is sitting in Ben's lap, and I don't think he's breathing."

"Who, Paddy?" I asked, alarmed.

"Um, no. Ben. I thought you might want to know, he's been holding his breath for a while now, and he's turning this really funny shade of purple—" She didn't bother to finish, since I'd run out of the room.


	10. Big Problem

Alright, I've been trying to squeeze parts of the plot in between all the levity, so Bella's entries are getting longer, but that's just how it works.

I apologize in advance for the cliffy and I'll try to update soon, because you guys seem to handle them very badly.

Whether it's smart or not, Bella maintains her humor (for the most part) through even some of the serious events. I can't help that.

Feel free to tell me what you think.  
**

* * *

12:53pm**

In Edward's car, on the way into town. I arrived in the living room in time to stop Ben from asphyxiating himself, but there was nowhere to put Paddy where he wouldn't escape and run right back.

He seemed to love Ben as much as Ben hated him.

So we locked him in our room (Paddy, not Ben) and Edward, Alice, Emmett, and I piled into Edward's car to head to town and get…duck supplies. Including some form of duck containment unit. I still have no idea where we would get something like that, but if it's out there, Edward will find it.

Emmett and Alice insisted on coming along, even though Emmett has to crouch slightly to keep from knocking himself out on the Volvo's roof.

"Why couldn't we drive Bella's new car?" Alice wondered.

I crossed my arms as Edward started down the driveway. "Because Bella may have accepted the car, but as far as she's concerned, it's just a very pretty lawn ornament."

Alice gasped. "Bella! You can't NOT drive it! You think that's not wasting money? If you keep it, you're going to drive it and since you don't have the option of returning it, the next time we go out, we're taking _that_ car."

"Alice—"

"Is it just me, or have you two been doing nothing but arguing for the past few days," Edward noted.

I looked at Alice in surprise. He was right.

But Alice didn't look worried. In fact, she smiled. "Well, of course. That's what sisters do."

"You don't fight with Rose all the time," Emmett chimed in.

"Well, yeah, but Rosalie could kick my ass. I'm not suicidal."

**  
1:15pm**

I don't know how I got conned into leaving Edward on his own to do the duck-supply shopping and letting Alice haul me into the nearest department store, but somehow here I am.

And, it_ is_ Forks, so the closest thing to a department store we have here is Wal-Mart.

But Alice said she'd found this "cute little boutique" down the street from the pet store and she wanted to see what they had.

I don't believe for a second that Alice has lived here for this long and never been inside this store, but it must be the same idiocy that made me agree to Esme cooking me meals every time I came over to "help me feel at home" (and apparently she needed a new hobby), that has me stuck in the corner of a little tiny shop, surrounded by frills of lace and the awful cloying sent of perfume.

I don't know how Alice can stand it, having a sense of smell twenty times stronger than mine, but she seems fine, flitting from rack to rack, comparing and matching, without once looking at any of the price tags.

And not only that. Emmett insisted on tagging along.

Having a six-and-a-half foot guy as built and as attractive as Emmett standing in one corner of the store is scaring half the women in here, and causing the other half to act like idiots.

One woman had her eyes on him so long she walked into a dress rack and knocked the whole thing over.

Emmett finds it all very amusing, but I guess it's hard to tell if you don't know him well enough, because he has a habit of clamming up in public. I _told_ Alice Emmett knows when to be serious. Or at least when to control the volume and blatancy of his humor.

**  
1:17pm**

Alice pranced over to me with a mountain of clothes in her arms. She separated them into two piles, thrown over the top of a clothing rail, and said, "These are for me, and these are for you. Go try yours on."

I tapped my chin in feigned thought. "The answer 'no' comes to mind. I think I'll go with that."

Alice looked exasperated. "Look, I've been reciting the alphabets of every language I know, including Latin and Russian, all morning and half the afternoon to keep Edward out of my head so I could talk to you without his interference. He's already suspicious and I know he's going to corner me later and interrogate me. You owe me."

"What kind of warped logic is that? I never even wanted to talk to you about…it."

Alice sighed, folding herself onto the floor in front of me. "I know. But tell me you don't feel better having gotten that off your chest."

I hated to admit it, but she was right. What is it with this family always having the right answer?

Alice continued, not needing my answer to know the truth. "I know you wanted to ask me questions and I promise I'll let you…after I get my answers. What can I say? I have a vested interest."

I looked at her suspiciously. "You promise you'll answer any questions I have afterward?"

She shrugged. "Any questions that I'm at liberty to answer, yes. Jasper really wouldn't appreciate it if I went into too much detail about…"

"Oh, I understand. And I don't think I want to know quite that much about him, thanks."

"So, now that we have that settled," Alice said, hopping up off the floor and shoving my heap of clothing at me, "you can go try these on."

**  
1:19pm**

In the dressing room. Alice didn't look thrilled that I took the laptop in here with me. In fact, she just shouted, "I can hear you typing! If you're not out here wearing one of the things I gave you in five minutes I'm going to confiscate it!"

"Yes, Mom," I shouted back.

**  
1:25pm**

I just tried on the world's most confusing shirt. I put my head through one of the sleeve holes and then pulled it on upside down.

I did _not_ sign up for this.

**  
1:28pm**

Alice has found me about sixteen pairs of shorts. I'm glad I shaved, at least, but I hadn't realized that shorts had gotten so…short.

**  
1:29pm**

Oh, good God. People wear these in_ public_? It's like I'm wearing denim underwear. I look like Daisy Duke…minus the blonde hair and, you know, curves.

**  
1:35pm**

Hm. This sweater is actually pretty nice. I went out to show it to Alice and she loves it.

"It's flattering," she said, nodding in approval. I noticed that she was wearing one of her choices. It fit perfectly and made her look even lovelier, which was a level of pretty that was almost blinding in its intensity.

Alright, I'm really glad Rosalie didn't come.

But I might just get this sweater.

**  
1:36pm**

Took a look at the price tag. Nearly had a coronary. Putting the sweater back.

**  
1:38pm**

Went to find Alice. Found her standing so close to my dressing room door I nearly flattened her as I stepped out.

"Alice, are you crazy?" I ranted, brandishing the sweater. "This thing costs enough money to feed a third-world country for _days_!"

"Don't exaggerate, Bella," she admonished. "It's not that bad. And I'll pay for it—"

"No."

"Oh, come on, it's a nice sweater!"

"Unless this sweater can solve world hunger and turn anything it touches into gold, it's not worth this much money."

"Fine," Alice conceded, throwing her hands up, "I'll go find you a hobo sweater all riddled with holes so you can feel better."

And she stormed off. I'd bet my life, she'll be back in two minutes with something even more expensive.

You just can't _stop_ Alice. I avoid trying.

**  
2:30pm**

Alice and I bought what we wanted and were halfway to the door when I glanced inside my bag. Alice had slipped the sweater in with my things! When had she done it? How could she have paid for it without me seeing?

"Alice!" I turned to tell her that I wasn't letting her buy me something this ridiculously expensive and to put the sweater back, but she wasn't looking at me.

She was staring at something over my shoulder. Her face had transformed into a hard mask, none of her earlier joy showing.

I turned to see what on earth could possibly detract from Alice's happiness when she was in the middle of all these clothes—and felt my heart skip a beat.

"Q-Quil?"

Quil didn't exactly look thrilled to see me, and a sharp pain hit me as I realized that he might hate me now. I didn't like it, losing all my friends at La Push.

"Bella," he said almost formally, but he wasn't looking at me. His eyes were shifting between Alice and Emmett, who had left his corner and come up behind us. Quil must have just gotten there.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, wondering why any guy would come into a shop for women's clothing without a female escort.

"I'm just helping—"

But before he could finish, my answer came in the form of Emily shuffling around the corner.

She froze when she saw me, but I was too busy staring at her stomach to notice.

"Wow," was all I could say. Unfortunately, I think it came out more like "Wow, you're enormous!"

Quil made a sound that started out as a laugh, but was quickly choked off as he remembered that I had been shunned and, therefore, he was no longer allowed to find humor in anything I said.

"You're…I'm mean, you and Sam are…wow." I didn't know what to say. I just kept staring at her distended belly, wondering how far along she was.

"Yes," Emily mumbled. _She_ didn't look happy to see me either.

Oh yeah. I was in exile.

"How…are you?" I stammered, wondering why I was dragging out the torture. It was obvious they hated me now, and I couldn't blame them. But I'd missed them. Completely asinine, but true.

"We're fine." Emily answered for the both of them. "How are you?"

I shrugged. "Fine, I guess."

I felt a cold hand on my shoulder and realized it must be Emmett. Why do men feel the need to posture all the time? It wasn't exactly helping the situation. But it was comforting all the same.

Emily nodded, then turned to Quil. "We should go."

Quil nodded as well, but didn't immediately follow as she hurried toward the door. He rubbed the back of his neck, glanced at Alice and Emmett one more time (who I could only imagine didn't look very friendly either), and said, "I miss you, Bells. But after what happened with Jake, I don't think…"

I nodded, understanding perfectly. "I get it. I'm—"

I couldn't say it. I couldn't say that I was sorry. I was sorry that I'd hurt Jacob and that things might never be normal between me and the rest of the pack and that I'd lost so many good friends. But I couldn't bring myself to tell him that I was sorry how things had turned out. I wasn't. And I felt awful, and guilty, and so incredibly lucky to have someone like Edward all at the same time.

But I couldn't explain that all to Quil and he wasn't waiting for me to finish.

"I get that you did what you thought was best for you, but…did you have to rub it in?"

I frowned. "What?"

"The wedding invitation you sent," Quil explained, but the look on my face must have thrown him. "You…you did send him a wedding invitation, right?"

"No," I said slowly. Then things started clicking into place. Oh, no. Edward hadn't! I couldn't be angry with him because I knew he'd never have done it to intentionally hurt Jake. He wasn't the rubbing-it-in-type of guy. But he didn't understand that Jake wasn't like him. He wouldn't be able to just sit back and accept it graciously as I was married to someone else.

"Oh, boy," I mumbled. "Oh, no."

"Look, Bella, I have to go," Quil said. "But…take care of yourself, 'kay?"

"Sure," I mumbled as he left.

Now I have to go find my husband and explain to him that when I say don't do something he SHOULD NOT DO IT.

**  
2:54pm**

In the car. I had a little talk with Edward and explained to him that he might be insanely self-sacrificing, but Jacob was_ sixteen_. He wasn't quite there yet, and I hoped to God he never got there, because it was going to take me ages to pound any ideas of sacrificing himself out of Edward's head. I would hate to have to start worrying about Jacob next.

Edward didn't listen at first. He was too busy spazzing out about our meeting with Quil. He'd fished it out of Emmett's mind before I'd even been able to start talking. And seeing it from Emmett's semi-hostile perspective probably hadn't helped.

But when it comes to Jacob, Edward refuses to admit he was wrong. He's apologized for doing it after I strictly forbade it, but he still believes that Jacob should have had the option, even if he didn't want to go.

So, I've given up on that for now, but I'm not speaking to him for a while. This will probably only last for the drive home, but it seems to be torturing Edward.

It's perversely entertaining.

**  
3:04 pm**

We were halfway home when Edward cracked. But he didn't speak to me directly. He just brought up a subject that was guaranteed to make me break my silence.

"Alice, have you been able to clear your visions of Ben and Kat yet?"

I could hear Alice sigh behind me. She and Emmett were squeezed in the back seat with a handful of shopping bags and a few bags of various vegetables. Apparently the lady at the pet store said that domestic ducks can eat vegetables and greens, but since ours hasn't exactly always been domestic, she suggested buying different things to figure out what he liked.

I'll be spending the next few days waving carrots and lettuce under Paddy's nose.

"They're still blurry, even though I'm concentrating as hard as I can," Alice said to Edward's question. "I don't understand what's wrong with me."

I fought it for all of two seconds. "Alright, what's going on?"

Edward smiled briefly, then explained, "It seems I'm not the only one having trouble sensing our new guests. Jasper can still feel their emotions, but Alice's sight has gone fuzzy when it comes to them."

"You can't see them at all?" I asked, wondering what was going on with those two.

"I can see them, but all the glimpses I can find go by so fast I can't figure out what they are and the ones that aren't flashes are blurry. It's frustrating."

"Yes, it must be very difficult to concentrate on clearing their images _and_ keeping me out of your head at the same time," Edward said dryly. "Maybe you could just tell me what this big secret between you and Bella is."

I glanced back at Alice. She didn't look like she liked that idea. But, finally, she said, "Oh, what's the point?"

I knew the exact moment Edward figured out what was going on. "Alice!"

So now, ten minutes later, they're still arguing. But it doesn't make sense, because Edward answers her before she has a chance to actually _say_ anything, so all Emmett and I can hear is:

"That's no excuse, Alice. Because it's none of your concern! I never once--! How do you know that? I'm going to kill Jasper. Stop asking her questions. It makes her uncomfortable. Fine, it makes _me_ uncomfortable. Alice—"

And on and on and on.

I may have to ignore him some more when we get home, to make up the time he's missing now. The jerk.

**  
3:20pm**

Home. Kat and Ben are still here and Kat is about to jump out of her skin. Ben has given up on calming her down and is forcing down some of Esme's dinner. Actually, he seems to enjoy it.

Does he _have_ taste buds?

**  
3:28pm**

I finally set up Paddy's cage. We're going to keep it downstairs in the dining room, because no one really uses that room. Obviously.

Kat is wearing bald patches in the carpet and mumbling, "Where _is _he?"

This is why people created valium.

**  
3:42pm**

The phone rang. It was for me.

It was Renee.

She said she waited as long as she could to call and couldn't help herself any longer.

After answering about a hundred questions about "married life" and answering them a_ll _Renee started in on the wedding night.

_Why_ is everyone so interested in that night? What does it have to do with anything?

I mean, _I_ certainly enjoyed it, but…I don't want to talk to my _mother_ about it!

I did my best to skim over the embarrassing parts and then my reprieve came in the form of Ben screaming and swearing that Paddy had bitten him.

Bitten by a duck.

Do ducks even have teeth?

I'm not sure if we should lock up Paddy or lock up Ben.

**  
3:44pm**

Edward snuck up behind me and started biting at my neck. If I want to last until tonight, I can't be anywhere near him any time soon.

And Emmett's oh-so-hilarious suggestive winking isn't making my life easier.

**  
3:46pm**

I'm hiding in the library. When I mentioned the problem to him, Edward didn't seem to have any qualms over taking care of my "needs" right in the middle of the day.

I may have to kill him just to stop him from killing me. Or lock him in Paddy's cage.

Or lock _myself_ in Paddy's cage.

Dammit. Marriage is _hard_.  


9:00pm 

We have a problem. Big, big,_ big_ problem.

Kat paced into the library, walked right up to me, and said, "It wasn't a wedding dress."

I nearly fell off the window seat I had perched myself on. "What?"

"The dress I was wearing in the clearing," she elaborated. "It wasn't a wedding dress, it was one of those big, torturous marshmallow dresses they make you wear at cotillions. My mom sent me back here because my dad wanted me to have a coming out because he's insane and doesn't understand that I'm allergic to all things frilly. Besides he's this big, money-making business tycoon and he wanted the world to see what a lovely, well-bred daughter he has, so he had mom ship me back here for some crazy debutante ball that's going on in Port Angeles. But I hate dresses and I hate make-up and feathers and dancing, and all that asinine chatter and gossip and _giggling_ was driving me _crazy_. So when no one was looking I started a small fire to distract everyone and snuck out the back and took my Dad's car. But then Ben came after me on his bike and I freaked out and ran away because he looked really pissed that I'd left him alone in his own personal hell. And then I saw you and you looked just like me, trying to get away, and…well, that was why I was out there."

She practically deflated with relief.

I had caught maybe half of what she'd said and pieced it together into a story. Then I got confused. "Why…why couldn't you just tell me that?"

She sighed, crumpling to the floor. "Because then I would have had to explain my message and how I knew who you were."

I'd forgotten about that. You'd think something that important would stick, but it had just kind of blown right out of my mind. Actually, after my wedding night I'd forgotten a _lot_ of stuff. Honestly, I may have to relearn half the concepts they taught in biology this year.

I wasn't lying when I said he was just that good.

Anyway. Moving on.

I'm glad I wrote it down or I would have forgotten completely:

_We stared at each other, unsure of what to make of the situation. Was there some kind of wedding dress etiquette? Should we talk about flowers? Exchange caterers? Compare crazy sister-in-laws?_

_The girl shifted her stance and opened her mouth as if to say something—when the irritating rustling started up again. Whoever was coming was moving fast and they weren't bothering with stealth either._

_The Mystery Bride went stark white as she whipped around and scanned the trees. Then, suddenly, she took off running across the clearing and was about to disappear into the woods again when she skidded to a quick halt, turned to me, and whispered, frantically, "You have two days before they arrive. Be prepared."_

_And then she disappeared. I was sitting there, wondering if the caterer had maybe put CRACK in my French bread, when a dark shape burst from the woods and disappeared the same way, hurrying after the girl._

_And that was it. _

"Well, what _was_ it about?" I asked her now. "And why are you explaining it to me _now _of all times?"

She looked down. "Because my Dad hasn't come to get us yet and I'm not supposed to _be_ here. And I have a bad feeling that I'm still going to be here when they arrive."

"When who arrives?" What was she _rambling_ about?

She sighed and went on like I hadn't even said anything. "And I like you. I can't just leave you to flounder on your own. Not when I can help. So I told you to be prepared. I told you you have two days." She dropped her head into her hands. "And now time's up."

She was sending me into all kinds of panic. I couldn't decipher anything she was saying, but I could tell by the terrified undercurrent in her words that whatever it was was bad.

I hurried out of the library in search of Edward. Kat followed after me still talking, but I wasn't listening. And then suddenly, Alice was there, looking frantic.

"I didn't see them coming!" she cried. "I was concentrating on Kat and Ben, trying to clear their images. I wasn't concentrating and now it's too late to fix this!"

And then Edward was carrying me into the living room at an impossible speed and everyone was moving so fast. Had they forgotten about Kat and Ben? They couldn't know about—!

But Ben was sitting up straight on the couch staring at Kat. Neither of them looked surprised. But they both looked worried.

Everyone was moving so fast and no one was bothering to stop and tell me what was going on.

And then there was a knock on the door.

Everything and everyone froze. The only sound I could hear was the sound of blood rushing in my ears and my heart pounding like it was trying to find a way out of my chest.

Kat groaned. "Oh, God. They're early."

Carlisle was the one to approach the door. Edward's arms tightened almost painfully. I barely felt it.

The door opened—and Jane sauntered into the room with a brief, unimpressive "hello." Here eyes lit on me and an ecstatic smile spread across her face.

I stopped breathing.

There were others—not many, but a few—behind her. I didn't see any of them.

My eyes were fixed on Aro, who stepped into the room last, a friendly smile on his face.

"Carlisle!" he exclaimed.

"Aro," Carlisle responded, his smile flawless, but tight.

"I must extend my apologies for the short notice, but business required I be in the area, and I figured, what better time to visit with old friends?" He clapped his hands together excitedly. "And I'm quite interested to see how our lovely Bella turned out."

Then his eyes landed on me and his smile melted into a frown. "Oh dear, this won't do. This won't do at all."


	11. More Problems

I updated with all haste just for you guys. Sorry if it's short, but I'm going as fast as I can. Unless you want me to drop out of school to appease your fanfiction needs?

Yeah. I didn't think so.

Oh, and the message some of you might have gotten for chapter eleven earlier was an author's note I put up and then deleted. It wasn't important, so don't worry about it.

**

* * *

Day 5, Monday**

**2:13am**

They expect me to sleep.

There are a half dozen human-eating vampires downstairs in our living room, discussing how I'll die and THEY EXPECT ME TO SLEEP.

All of the Cullens are down there as well, trying to convince them not to kill me outright. Last time I checked, Ben and Kat were still down there too, though I don't know why. But did anyone ask if I wanted a say in my death?

No. They dragged me upstairs, tucked me into bed, LOCKED THE DOOR, and _they expect me to sleep_!

Vampires may be pretty, but I'm starting to doubt their intelligence.

**  
2:15am**

Edward hasn't even come up to check and see if I've had a panic attack and am lying on the floor in a coma.

This is crap.

**  
2:16am**

What do I do if they decide not to give me a second chance? I know I was too busy having an internal earthquake born of fear to listen as closely as I should have during our brief trip to Italy last year—when they were discussing this very thing—but I distinctly recall them saying, "We do not offer second chances."

So, is this the part where I start writing my will?

And why am I not more nervous?

I mean, I'm freaking out pretty badly, but I don't think the full weight of the idea that I could die tonight has set in. Maybe because I don't think the Cullens would allow it. They would fight for me. I know they would.

And _now_ I'm worried. What if something happens to _them_?

Alright, definitely panicking now, can't breathe, can't breathe.

I'll have todfj getyjs—

**  
2:29am**

Sorry. It's really hard to type and hyperventilate at the same time. Alice is right, I'm going to give myself a heart attack some day.

The thought of any of them being hurt or—God forbid—dying because of me brought so many emotions rushing forward I got dizzy and had to curl up on the bed and concentrate on breathing to make them go away.

I'm having serious trouble figuring out where Kat and Ben fit in all this.

And Kat's Dad either forgot about her and Ben or is lying in a ditch somewhere bleeding from the head because he has yet to arrive. I think. I haven't been down there in a while, but something tells me they're not going anywhere anytime soon.

_None of this makes any sense_.

And I'm probably going to die.

Today is not my day.

**  
2:46am**

Edward finally decided to show up. He opened the door cautiously and poked his head around as if he expected me to explode and start throwing things.

I wasn't that far from it, actually.

I was sitting up in bed, back stiff, arms crossed, glaring at the door.

Edward crept in, a warily amused expression on his face, but worry and exhaustion in his eyes. I sat up straighter and planted my hands on the bed spread.

"So?" I asked, trying to sound unaffected. It didn't actually work very well. My voice came out as a croaky squeak that could only be described as frighteningly unattractive.

Edward ran a hand through his hair, pushed the door shut and came to sit with me on the bed. Then he started to explain what he knew from the beginning.

Neither Ben nor Kat had been surprised by the Volturi, because they _knew_ the Volturi. Kat's eccentric, traveling-around-Europe mother had stumbled across them during her brief spell in Italy last month and had become one of their willing human pets. And since Kat and Ben had been under her care at the time, they'd become pets by association.

They'd known about the Cullens the entire time they'd been here, thought they hadn't ever planned on meeting us. Kat running Ben over with her bike while they'd been driving through Forks hadn't been deliberate and Kat warning me of the Volturi's visit had definitely not been preplanned. As far as Edward knew, the Volturi knew nothing about it and when they found out, Kat's life might be in jeopardy.

The story about her dad and the cotillion was random, in the scheme of things, but true.

"So, are they leaving now?" I asked, feeling a little shocked to have my view of the two of them flipped so dramatically.

Edward nodded. "I think that's best."

I didn't know how I felt about that, or if I felt anything at all, so I asked a different question. "How did Kat know it was me when she saw me in the forest? The Volturi haven't nicked one of my awful school photos, have they?"

Edward smiled, smoothing my hair. "No. She pieced things together. The Volturi have been discussing you constantly, so she knew what you looked like, your age, and…well, you were in a wedding dress. In the middle of the woods in Forks. I guess it was some kind of intuition. I don't know, I'm not a woman."

I wanted to hit him, but he still hadn't mentioned one important detail. The verdict. "And…?"

He looked away. "It took a while and a lot of convincing entreaties from Carlisle to come to a decision. Aro has decided to give us two days. Two days to take care of any remaining business you might have with your human family and friends. Two days to…" He looked absolutely horrified at the idea, but I didn't bother trying to convince him it was what I wanted. I was getting very tired of saying it. Edward buried his face in my neck. "It's a good thing he's so fascinated by you, or things might have turned out differently. You can imagine Jane's chagrin. Unfortunately, she's developed an interest in you too, though not a positive one."

I thought about that. Two days. Edward would have to change me in two days.

Call me masochistic, but I felt a little thrill of excitement run through me.

Finally.

**  
3:26am**

Edward just left. I had a lot more questions about what was going on (_Why_ was Aro here? What business did he have to take care of in FORKS, of all places? Couldn't he have sent others to do his bidding? What was the point of having minions if they didn't do your bidding?!).

He'd answered what he could, but since he'd left in the middle of the "conference" to come make sure I hadn't pulled all my hair out or chewed off my leash and escaped, he didn't know all the details and wouldn't until I unclenched my fingers from his arm and let him up off the bed.

"Do you have to leave _right_ now?" I asked sadly. "Are you really going to leave me all by myself up here to worry about you? Am I going to have to go another night without sleep?"

It was three-thirty in the morning, so I thought that might have been a given, but Edward still looked torn.

The fact that he was actually considering it made my heart warm over. He was such a sweet, sweet pushover.

"Oh, just go," I said, faking irritation.

He kissed my cheek and then slipped back out of the room.

Ten seconds later the door opened again, and Edward threw an angry, flapping Paddy into the room.

"Keep him in here before someone downstairs decides to eat him."

**  
3:33am**

I decided against putting Paddy in his cage just yet. I couldn't even if I wanted to, since his cage is downstairs and I'm sure Edward locked the door when he left.

Instead Paddy's plopped down on the bed beside me.

Oh my good God, he's _rank_!

**  
3:37am**

Alright, I'm dressed in one of my ugliest T-shirts and a pair of ratty blue jeans.

Time to give Paddy a little bath.

**  
3:46am**

I can't believe how fast that duck is! I can't catch him!

It's like he _knows._

**  
3:52am**

Pinned Paddy down using one of the bed sheets. He's fighting like I'm dragging him to the guillotine.

It's just a bath!

Stupid pheasant.

On the bright side, this is doing a marvelous job of taking my mind off of what's going on downstairs.

**  
3:59am**

In the bathroom. I've locked the door so he can't escape. I figure just dumping him in a tub full of water would be cruel, so I'm going to scrub him with a washcloth.

**  
4:07am**

We will never be able to use this washcloth again. No amount of washing is going to get the filth out of it. This is disgusting! He's got dirt everywhere and I swear I just saw something crawling around under one of his feathers.

Ew. Maybe keeping a wild duck wasn't such a bright idea.

But he's just so darn cute.

**  
4:11am**

Did I say cute? I meant _Satan_ _in a duck's body._

I should have named him Diablo.

**  
4:13am**

Ow! He splashed soap in my eye!

**  
4:14am**

Crap, I let go of him and now he's flapping around the bathroom splashing water and suds everywhere. Plus, he's so slippery now that he's covered in soap, I can't get a grip on him.

Damned jumpy duck.

**  
4:16am**

Sprawled out on my back on the bathroom floor, staring at Paddy where he's prancing along the bathroom counter. I'm too exhausted to get up. He's taunting me, I just know it.

I think I know where we're getting our Thanksgiving dinner.

**  
4:23am**

Phew. I'm dirty, completely soaked, and exhausted.

But the duck is clean.

My work here is done.

**  
4:28am**

Climbed into bed with a squeaky clean Paddy. Apparently all the fight has gone out of him. He's settled right down to sleep in the bed next to me. Now that's he's not in any immediate danger of being attacked with another bucket of soapy water, I think he's enjoying his new cleanliness.

Now, I think it's time for some well-deserved sleep. I think I'm beat enough to sleep without Edward for once.

If I have to chase a duck around a bathroom every time I want to sleep when Edward's away, I'll have to chain Edward to the bed.

…Okay, that's not sounding like such an awful idea.

Mmm, happy, happy dreams.

**  
11:23am**

Crap! What time is it?

I can't believe Edward let me sleep this late. And I don't even know what's going on!

**  
12:08pm**

Charged downstairs and tripped over the coffee table. It's become part of my daily routine. I try to go around it every time, but I swear the damn thing is following me.

Anyway, Aro and his posse are gone. Thank goodness. I don't think I could stand the stress of trying to act normal with Jane breathing down my neck. The woman frightens me even more than Aro.

Well, almost more than Aro.

I didn't recognize any of the others with them, but I didn't exactly want to get to know them better.

The Cullen house is full of activity. It's the quiet kind, though, the kind that doesn't involve a lot of people moving, but leaves an undercurrent of anxious energy thrumming through the house.

Esme and Carlisle have locked themselves in the study to discuss the entire situation at length and find the best course of action. Jasper is sitting quietly in the living room, reading a book, and, if I'm not wrong, sending out minute waves of calm to keep the panic levels from reaching epidemic proportions.

I'm wondering if he's gotten to use his gift for anything _else_ since I stumbled into Edward's life.

Alice wrote up a check list of things we'd need for my comfort during The Change (I think it deserves to be capitalized, don't you?) and has gone into town to get them.

Emmett isn't sure what to do with himself, so he's gone out to the garage to help Rosalie, who is examining my car for any deficiencies as a way to keep herself busy.

Edward and I are on the floor in the living room, hands clasped togther. He's run through the rest of the things discussed last night while I was locked up for my own safety. He won't talk about my change anymore. He flinches every time I mention it.

It makes me want to hurt him a little bit.

In any case, Edward explained that Aro does, in fact, have business in the area and that he's having a meeting to discuss some issues with a few "acquaintances".

You know that feeling you get when you know someone is trying to downplay a situation "for you own safety?"

No? Is it just me then?

Well. I was getting that feeling now, and I made sure Edward knew it. Unfortunately, subtlety is not one of my natural-born talents.

"What aren't you telling me? And don't give me any of that "you'll be better off not knowing" crap you keep feeding me. I want the truth." I crossed my arms and waited.

Edward looked unimpressed. "Bella, I don't want to upset you this close to such an...important...time." He gritted out the last few words like he had a mouth full of gravel.

"Edward, I don't care! I want to know what's going on, and I'm not going to sit here and try to pry it out of you with the Jaws of Life when I can just go ask someone else. I'm sure Emmett will be happy to tell me." I started to get up, but suddenly found myself in Edward's lap, locked in place by his arms.

"Fine," he growled in my ear. "But you have to promise not to panic. I know you still worry about Jacob and the rest of your La Push friends—"

"What?!" I nearly broke a few ribs trying to break Edward's hold so I could turn and look him in the eye. He released me instantly to prevent me hurting myself. "What do you mean? What's going to happen to Jacob? Do the Volturi know about the pack?" My voice was rising hysterically.

Edward grabbed my hands. "Bella, this does not prove to me that you can handle the news you want to hear so badly."

I closed my eyes and took some deep breaths. I was doing that a lot lately.

"Alright. Alright, I'm fine. Tell me. I can handle it." Edward looked skeptical, so I added, "Please?"

He crumpled like a house of cards in a tornado.

Who knew the magic word they talked about all the time in grade school would be so darn nifty?

He looked down at the carpet briefly, as if he was searching for the correct way to explain things to me without going into too much detail.

I raised his chin and shook my head. "No, Edward. The _whole_ truth."

He took hold of my wrist and kissed my palm.

"No distractions either," I admonished, pulling my hand back to keep him from making me forget my question.

"Alright. Aro has called a meeting and invited a good hundred or so vampires, all strong enough and influential enough to get his message to the rest of the vampire community, or at least a good portion of it. This is how most of the Volturi's decrees are made. There are very few of them and most are simply guidelines to be followed as best as possible, but when a member of the Volturi finds something they wish to disallow, they find a meeting place and call a number of vampires to attend so that the word will be spread. _We_ have been invited to attend the meeting. However, Aro has also chosen our town to host his gathering."

At first I didn't understand the significance. At first all I could think about was Charlie and the other people who lived in Forks who would all look mighty appetizing to a summit of vampires a hundred strong. Just the thought made me want to cry or scream or go find Aro and tell him to get his undead ass out of my town.

"Calm down, Bella," Edward's voice intruded on my foggy mind, and I realized that I'd stopped breathing. "Aro isn't stupid. He understands the risk of exposure with so many of our kind in one place. They'll only be here long enough to meet and discuss the new law and they won't be allowed to hunt while they are here. If a sudden rash of deaths occurs in one place, people will become suspicious. Your friends and family will be fine."

I felt so much relief, I slumped forward bonelessly and felt Edward pull me across his lap again.

If vampires massacring my town wasn't the problem, what was?

Then the reason for such apprehension hit me with the force of a speeding freight train.

They were holding the gathering in our town, and our town had something no other place in the world had:

An ever-growing group of werewolves just down the road, who would never tolerate such a high number of vampires coalescing so close to their territory.

They weren't going to like this at all.

**  
12:16pm**

I'm not sure what to do about this werewolf situation, but Edward insists there's nothing we can do about it now except inform them. We have too much to do. On today's checklist is:

1. Visit Charlie and say goodbye to him for the last time. We've made up some story about wanting to get settled in Alaska early so that I can start my first year of college without any distractions. With Edward around that's not going to happen, but I figure I'll skip over that part.

2. Call Renee. Indulge her in useless girl chatter for an hour or more, if necessary. Feed her the same line about school, but promise to e-mail her every day.

3. Cry a little bit, but when Edward asks, insist I've only got something in my eye. I don't want him to feel any more awful than he already does.

And for tomorrow:

1. Go down to La Push and inform the werewolves that there's going to be a big huge meeting of creatures they consider filthy parasites right next to their reservation. As the only one allowed to enter Quileute territory, I've been given the honors. Edward asked if I wanted him to go along, but that's just a big huge disaster waiting to happen, so I insisted on going alone.

And 2. Be changed and spend the rest of my eternal life wth Edward.

So...today's going to be interesting.


	12. Dreams

I know, I know, it took me about a year to get this up. But you have NO IDEA what I had to go through to get this done. Put it this way: 2 girls, 1 computer, and a duel of epic proportions.

We had to break out our Samurai swords and duel to the death but in the end my sister surrendered and I won honor for my family and the right to sit down at the computer and FINALLY finish a chapter. Two actually. So I posted them both to make up for the long wait.

HUZZAH!

Now, a few notes to my reviewers:

To **everyone who reviews**: Thank you! Reviews are my crack and you guys are feeding my addiction. If you stop I may have to sell my kidney for crack/review money.

To **Edward's Manda**, **dragonrider713**, **DramaticStarlet**, and **plainlyironic**: You guys seem to have made it your mission in life to review every one of my chapters. You will all get places of power in my new world order. If I forgot anyone else who's been reviewing lots (who I don't mention next) please tell me so I can glomp you over the internet.

To **Impasse**: I have no idea how many chapters I'll write. It will end when it ends. But hopefully not too soon. Thanks for reviewing and LONG LIVE EDWARD CULLEN! to you too.

To: **Twilight-day-every-day**: I know what you mean. Kat and Ben were part of an original plot I decided to scrap in the fourth chapter. Unfortunately, I'd already stuck Kat in there so I had to find an explanation for her and her message _and_ her wedding dress _and_ how she knew who Bella was. Not so easy. So I did the best I could with what I had. Since this is my first fanfiction, I'm still learning what works and what doesn't. I picked the diary format because it lets me skip over needless parts without too many transitions (I butcher transitions every time; they make me longwinded). But thank you for telling it like it is. You will also have a seat in my new world order. Maybe my Grand Advisor or something...

And finally, to **Ajazzy**: I might consider letting you have Paddy...if you make it worth my while..._--hint, hint, give me money, hint, hint--_

Okay, on to the Feature Presentation.

P.S. You horny jerks kept badgering me so I added the teeniest tiniest bit of info about the wedding night in here. Don't expect too much. It's miniscule, really, but I aim to please. This is the best I can do for you. Call me shy or call me Amish, JUST STOP CALLING ME.

* * *

**Charlie's House  
1:15pm**

I don't think I can do this.

Spend the rest of eternity as a vampire with the love of my existence? Yes.

Leave Charlie alone to cook, clean, and generally fend for himself? No. That I can't do.

When I went upstairs to grab the few things I'd left behind when I'd moved into the Cullen house last week, there was a pile of laundry big enough to rival Mount Everest festering in the hallway by Charlie's bedroom door.

And not only that, but the smell of smoke coming from the kitchen keeps getting stronger. Charlie won't let me in there to fix whatever he's burning, though. He's trying to prove he can make his own food without my help.

He is failing miserably.

Whatever's he's cooking is going to be unrecognizable char in a few minutes. And knowing Charlie, we'll have to eat it anyway, just to keep from hurting his feelings. Or questioning his unparalleled skill.

I can feel my tongue shriveling in my mouth.

I've got a lot to get done today. If I want to make it to the peace and quiet of tonight, I'll just have to grin and bear it.

The only thing keeping me upright is the fact that I've glommed onto Edward and won't let go. He's perfectly happy with it, but I resent the fact that if I tried standing on my own right now I'd probably end up with a mouthful of carpet. Trying to make Charlie believe this is just a goodbye-for-now when I know that it's a goodbye forever has turned my legs into Jell-O.

Nerves are the worst.

**  
3:35pm**

We didn't have to eat Charlie's burnt meal. He realized his dinner was a lost cause about ten minutes after he started and ordered pizza.

He might just survive on his own after all.

I feel bad that Edward had to suffer through the meal, though. Every time Charlie wasn't looking, his face crinkled in a grimace. I think food is one of the only things I'll miss about being human.

We spent the rest of the afternoon discussing my college plans, where we would live, and how often we would visit. I managed to convince Charlie that coming down to Forks any time during my first year of school might throw me off track, but I promised to e-mail him. And then I had to show him exactly how e-mail worked.

Apparently he's still used to using the old stone and chisel.

Now I've locked myself in my room (at the Cullen's) with the phone and some emergency rations I picked up from the grocery store while we were in town and I'm preparing for my conversation with Renee.

I'd rather take a really long nap, but I have to get this over with.

**  
4:56pm**

I can't feel my ear. Talking to Renee on the phone is ten times as exhausting as talking to Charlie in person.

In short, she's fine with the early move, I'm going to be glued to the computer answering her endless e-mails for the next six months, and I have to come visit as soon as humanly possible.

I need some sleep. But since I haven't chased any ducks recently (Paddy and Emmett are busy bonding, doing God-only-knows-what), I'm going to need to find Edward.

**  
9:32pm**

Went into the library and found Jasper buried in old tomes. He told me Edward was in the garage with Alice.

I was about to leave to go drag my wayward husband upstairs for a nap, but something made me turn back and ask, "Do you think I'll be okay?"

Jasper looked up surprised and slightly confused. "I'm sorry?"

I felt like an idiot, but I asked again. "When I'm a vampire. Do you think I'll be able to do what you do?"

He peered at me silently for such a long time, I thought he wasn't going to answer at all. Then he closed his book. "I think you want very much to do well. I think that it won't be easy. I think you have a desire to be equal to Edward in all ways. I think you could never survive hurting someone, no matter who they were or what their crimes. I think wanting to never harm a single soul as a vampire is an impossible goal that is doomed to failure and disappointment." He paused for a moment and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "And I think you're just stubborn enough to do it."

To say I was shocked would be an understatement. This was probably the most I'd heard him say in a very long time, without proper cause or a lot of cajoling. And for him to have dug so deeply into my personality, he must have been observing me for a _very_ long time.

I felt my cheeks warm as I thought about him watching me stumble through the past few months when I'd thought he'd been all but oblivious to my presence. I mumbled a 'thank you' that couldn't even begin to describe how much his words had encouraged me and hurried down to the garage.

I went into the garage to find Alice _hugging_ her Porsche.

"Am I interrupting?" I asked from the doorway.

Alice looked up, not at all embarrassed that I'd just caught her embracing a vehicle. "No. I just love this car." She sighed dreamily, brushing one pale hand over the hood.

"Should I warn Jasper that he might be ousted by a piece of machinery?"

Alice gasped, like my words were the blackest blasphemy. "He's not just a piece of machinery!"

I raised an eyebrow. "He?"

"Yes. He. If guys can give feminine attributes to their cars, then I should be able to give masculine ones to mine." She looked like an indignant feminist, fighting for a woman's right to call her car a 'he'.

I shrugged. "Sounds fair. And speaking of men and their stifling, chauvinist ways, where's Edward?"

"I resent that," Edward said at my ear. A cold arm wrapped around my waist. "I like to think I'm very open-minded on the issue of women's rights."

"In this house, being anything but would get you killed," I mumbled. I was fast losing track of my reasons for being here. "I need you upstairs."

"For what?" he asked, his lips moving along my neck.

"Sleep."

I could feel his smile against my skin. He was just too _good_ at that. I pulled away and gave him a stern look. "Come on, Casanova. Upstairs."

I was pulling him toward the door when Alice called, "Sleep well. A week from now, you'll never be able to do it again."

My heart skipped a beat at the reminder.

"Alice," Edward growled.

Alice shrugged and turned back to her car. "Your denial won't make the reality go away. Just face it Edward. You'll both be happier when you do."

Edward didn't look like he agreed, but before I could wholeheartedly concur with Alice's reasoning, I was being whisked up the stairs to our room.

Edward kicked the door shut behind him and set me on the bed. Before I could move he'd gone and returned with a pair of my pajamas. "You can't sleep in your clothes."

I waited to see if he would give me some privacy the way he used to, but he just stood there grinning mischievously.

I couldn't help but return his grin and as I changed right there in front of him I only turned about two shades of red.

An all-time low in my book.

When he climbed into bed with me, I curled myself around him and slept instantly. I really was exhausted.

It was the strangest dream. It started off slowly. Brief flashes of memories slid by like pictures in a slide show. I was looking back over my life.

I was four, holding up the world's most hideous water-color finger-painting of a cat to Renee…I was six, screaming and crying as Renee bandaged my bloody elbow where I'd torn the skin falling off a swing…I was nine, sitting in a fishing boat with Charlie, wearing a hat three times too big, fascinated by the wriggling worms in the white plastic container.

Ten, twelve, thirteen, sixteen…

I was at the airport waving goodbye to my mother and her new husband, wondering if Forks could possibly be as dreary and boring as I remembered it.

I was stepping out of Charlie's car, realizing that yes, it most certainly could.

It was my first day of school. Jessica. Eric. Mike.

I was in the cafeteria. The dream seemed to slow even more as the memory of my first sight of Edward Cullen came to the fore.

He was more beautiful than words could describe.

And then the image was ripped away and the scenes started slipping by faster than I could grasp them. They started careening out of order.

My first day of biology…deep, dark eyes, black with what I had thought was hatred…Tyler's van…the hospital and that ridiculous neck brace…the Cullens, one by one, flashing through my mind: Rosalie, Jasper, Alice, Esme, Carlisle, Emmett, Edward…Jacob, as he used to be, laughing with me in his garage…The Cullen house as I saw it the first time: pristine, white, ancient and beautiful, just like its inhabitants…My days with the pack, the moments when I didn't feel quite so empty…the exact moment that the hole in my chest disappeared, leaving no traces behind…the meadow…James…

After all the sweet images I'd seen, James's leering face filled with malevolent joy made me draw back. But the images had changed now, and the peaceful part of this dream was slipping away like water in my hand. They went faster, impossibly faster.

James, Victoria, Laurent, Felix, Demetri, Jane, Alec, Aro, Caius, Marcus, Heidi, red eyes, scared eyes, and the screaming, blood, death, death—

MY DEATH.

And suddenly everything stopped and I was in a room, a white room that had no walls and didn't end and I was standing in front of a mirror. I had a sense of déjà vu, like I'd dreamt this before, or at least something like it, and I had. I'd dreamt of Gran. I was Gran. But that was another dream and now things were different.

Instead of Grandma Marie in the mirror, this time it was me. Just me, as I'd always been.

And as I stared curiously into the mirror, I noticed things about myself that I hadn't before. My eyes traveled down my reflection and noted the changes: my skin was pale and flawless; my few curves, which had previously been more of angles, were more pronounced; my stance was less awkward, like I'd finally discovered my center of balance. The shiny dark tips of my hair curled around my waist alluringly and I followed the dark waves up to my face, my hair, my eyes—

The moment I looked into my reflection's eyes, I screamed.

Red. Like blood, like death, like a monster's. And I could suddenly hear the screams of the people I'd harmed in my past that wasn't yet my past, but my future.

My reflection's lips turned up in a cruel grin.

I came awake screaming.

I was making so much noise that at first I didn't hear Edward murmuring in my ear. What he was saying wasn't really processing, but his voice alone helped to calm me enough that I stopped whimpering.

I'd been still for at least five minutes when Edward finally asked, "What was it about?"

I sighed into his chest, trying not to think too hard about it. Already the terror was fading and common sense was flooding back. Edward would never let me become that. I had the whole Cullen family behind me and they would make sure of it.

"Just another nightmare," I whispered. Telling Edward would only make him more against changing me. I did _not_ need that on top of all my other anxieties.

"I thought you stopped having those."

"I did. But just because I stopped having those particular nightmares doesn't mean I'll never have any again." I tilted my head back and worked up my best smile for him. "Like Alice said, in a week's time I won't ever have to worry about them again. You're the one who wanted me to have human experiences. Nightmares just happen to be one of the unpleasant ones."

Before Edward could reply, there was a knock on the door and Rosalie's voice drifted through. "The rest of the family would like me to make sure that Bella isn't dead."

"I'm fine," I called.

"If you say so…"

When she was gone I asked, "How long was I out?"

Edward turned toward the wall of glass. It was completely dark outside. There was one lamp lit by the bed. The rest of the room was in shadow.

"So…a while?" I guessed.

"It's past nine. I'd say you had quite a nap."

I sat up and stretched. "I'd say so too." I looked down at him. "So what do you want to do now? Get started on tomorrow's To Do list?"

He shook his head. "This is going to be our last night together while you're still human. You're not going anywhere."

I can live with that.

**  
10:34pm**

Edward and I were in the middle of discussing Alaska and what we'd do when we got there, when Edward suddenly interrupted himself.

"There was something I meant to ask you."

I shrugged. "Go for it."

"It was just something I heard when I was going over all those conversations Alice had with you. She's been thinking through them quite a bit."

I went perfectly still. Why had I thought he wouldn't bring any of that up? No, I hadn't thought. I'd just hoped like hell.

"Yes?" I asked hesitantly.

The corner of his mouth twitched up. "I was wondering what exactly you meant when you told her I'd done 'exceptionally well'."

On the inside I was groaning. On the outside I tried to act like I wasn't mortified to be having this conversation.

I rolled my eyes. "Don't tell me you're going to get all smug again. I thought I already stroked your ego to its maximum capacity. Any bigger and your head might explode."

A smile played around Edward's lips. "I was actually just curious about why you think I did such an excellent job for _your_ sake."

"My sake? Oh, that makes a lot of sense. How could I possibly benefit from your supposed achievement?"

Edward didn't answer, just stared at me pointedly, like he was waiting for me to figure it out. And then I did.

Oh. Oh, that.

Oh, dear God.

I turned beet red. "Edward, I don't think I'm ready to be having this conversation."

His eyebrows inched up. "You were perfectly prepared to do it, but you can't talk about it?"

"Exactly."

"That seems a bit silly."

"Well, I'm a bit silly sometimes."

There was a brief silence, and then, "Please?"

Apparently that 'magic word' thing is a two-way street. I buckled under the force of his pleading gold eyes.

I slumped back against the pillows and looked up at the ceiling. "Well…Hey, do you realize that we've been married for about four days now and _that_ hasn't happened again? Why not?" I'm sure I sounded amusingly indignant. This sudden realization had surprised me, though I guess it shouldn't have.

"Bella, more has happened in the past four days than in the past four weeks. You've been exhausted since the wedding. And stop avoiding the question. My curiosity is killing me."

I gave him a look that told him plainly to stop pushing or he'd end up in the hall with no answers at all.

"Fine. But first I have a question. You spent a ridiculous amount of time poking around my shoulders and back and stomach area. In most people's books, those would be the very unimportant bits. What _was_ that?"

"You have very beautiful skin," Edward mumbled, running his thumb over the back of my hand.

I pulled my hand back. "If you'd like to make it to the end of this conversation, you're going to have to not do that. Besides, I don't want to add to your arrogance by throwing myself on you."

That made him light up like a Christmas tree. Apparently, I'd defeated my own purpose.

"Not only that," Edward continued, his goofy grin doubling in size. "You also have very sensitive skin. I recall you almost kicked me out the bed when I—"

"Don't say it!" I slapped my hands over his mouth. I could feel his grin against my palm.

God, this was going to be worse than I'd thought.

**  
12:06am**

It can't be good to have all the blood in your body suddenly rush en masse to your head. This conversation was doing just that.

I was busy trying to cool my blush so I wouldn't pass out when Alice poked her head around the door. "Can I come in?"

I smiled, relieved to be interrupted. "Sure."

Alice hurried across the room and hopped into the middle of the bed, crossing her legs. "I know you wanted to keep her all to yourself, Edward, but I'm going to miss human Bella too."

Edward rolled his eyes. "You'll be ecstatic to have a sister you can boss around for the rest of eternity."

"True," Alice admitted. "But I know Emmett will miss having to scrape Bella up off the floor every time she—"

I hit her in the face with my pillow before she could finish. She laughed.

"Did I hear my name?"

I looked up to see Emmett hovering in the doorway. Edward groaned, which only seemed to bolster Emmett's good humor.

"Come in," I said cheerfully. If I could just cram enough people into his room, it might distract Edward long enough for him to STOP STARING AT ME LIKE THAT.

Amazing fact: Talking about sex makes you want to have sex.

I know. Who'd have thought, right?

Certainly not me.

Emmett came in and sat on the floor on my side of the bed, crossing his arms over the bedspread. "What are we talking about? Boys? Shoes? Shopping?"

"Contrary to popular belief, women do have the mental capacity to think about things of a less superficial nature," Alice groused, sounding like she'd swallowed an encyclopedia. Then she turned and mumbled, "But Bella I did have some shoes I wanted you to look at. They're tennis shoes, I promise!" she rushed to say when my face took on the mulish look I'm so infamous for. "They're just better ones than the ratty pair you insist on wearing," she added in a grumble.

Emmett smiled like a buffoon.

"This does not mean you're right!" Alice growled at him.

"'Course not," Emmett said, reaching up to ruffle his sister's hair. I thought she would take his arm off. Instead she shifted over to Edward's side of the bed and glared from there.

"So, Bella," Emmett said, switching his attention to me. "You're dying tomorrow. Scared?"

Emmett was nothing if not blunt.

"Nope." I smiled. "I'll be able to beat you in arm wrestling for at least a year and outrun Alice whenever she tries to force me into something cashmere. What's not to like?"

Emmett chuckled. "You won't be able to eat, sleep, see your friends and family. Your eyes will be all red and spooky."

"I'll be able to eat, it just won't be over-processed fat-on-a-stick that'll give me a heart attack or organic wheat germy nonsense that will keep me alive but taste like cardboard. Trust me, not worrying about my health won't be a problem. If I don't sleep, I've got more time to get things done. And you guys are all the family I need."

"Aw," Alice cooed, wiping at an imaginary tear. "I'm touched."

I gave her a shove and she was polite enough to act like it hurt.

"And about the eyes," I continued. "Well…I don't know. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Emmett looked at Edward, impressed. "She's well and truly prepared. Looks like she's accepted all the terms of service. Now she just has to pass initiation."

I turned to look at Edward, surprised he hadn't objected to the turn the conversation had taken.

He was looking at me strangely. "Yes," he said, as if he was having a revelation. "She_ is_ ready."

I was almost afraid to believe it, but the look on his face said it was true. "Edward…" I said cautiously. "Don't you dare make me all hopeful and then go back and tell me you were just kidding and you _haven't_ FINALLY accepted this."

Edward smiled. "I still don't like it, but I think I can accept it now. And I don't doubt that you've considered all the consequences and accepted them. I still think you might regret it later when you've actually experienced those losses, but…"

I beamed, and for once I think _Edward_ was dazzled. "I'll take it!" I threw myself into his lap and cuddled him. "I love you, I love you, I love you!"

"Should we leave you two alone?" Emmett chuckled.

I rolled my eyes, but I was feeling weirdly chipper.

We talked about nothing for a long time. More about Alaska, my change (now that Edward didn't strike his emo pose every time I brought it up), and, finally, the Volturi.

I was feeling too happy to worry about it so much then, but I know I _should_ be worried.

I have a feeling that whatever this new law is, it's going to be something bad.


	13. Delivering News

This one's not as long as the last, but if you want something that actually makes sense, don't ask TOO much of mee. Even geniuses have their setbacks. See, I even spelled 'me' wrong. And will I fix it? No. Why? TO PROVE MY POINT.

I hope I got the werewolves' reactions right. I do my best.**

* * *

**

**Day 6, Tuesday  
****8:18am**

I don't wanna.

I haven't said that since I was about four, but right now, I'm saying it and I mean it: I don't wanna!

I know it's important for them to know and I know if they find out on their own it'll be a complete catastrophe and someone could get hurt, but I really, really don't want to have to be the one to tell them.

"How can you be so sure they'll find out," I asked Edward, grasping like crazy at any excuse to _not_ have to go to La Push. "I mean, if Aro is so super-careful, maybe the werewolves will never know. Maybe all those vampires will be able to get in and get out with no one the wiser. Maybe—"

"Bella," Edward interrupted, sifting through books. I'd found him in the library and just started ranting without introduction, but he didn't seem fazed. "If you don't want to do it, I've already told you the alternative."

"Yes, you going down there instead. You know that would be a complete disaster. You and the werewolves had a temporary truce, but I'm pretty sure that it's well and truly _over._ I think they'd love nothing better than for you to be idiotic enough to cross the treaty line so they could turn you into vampire confetti."

Edward looked over his shoulder. "If I can't go, and no one else can go, and you can't go, how do you plan on telling the wolves? Your plan of leaving them in the dark is an accident waiting to happen."

I groaned in utter defeat. "I know." I felt like pouting. "Fine. I'll do it. But when I get back it will be your sole duty to make me feel better."

The book that had been in Edward's hand thumped to the ground, since he'd vanished from that spot and was suddenly leaning over me, whispering in my ear, "I don't think that will be a problem."

Now _that_ is something to look forward to.

**  
8:29am**

I was making my way toward our room and Edward's cell phone as slowly as humanly possibly when Jasper went gliding down the hall with a disgruntled look on his face and a little leash in his hand.

Attached to the end of the leash was Paddy.

"How is it that I've gotten saddled with the job of walking your duck?" He grumbled.

I put my hands on my hips. "Would _you_ like to go alert the werewolves down at La push of the current situation?"

Jasper's face brightened. "Actually—"

Esme's voice carried from down the hall in the sternest tone I'd ever heard her use. "Walk the duck, Jasper!"

Jasper sighed and trudged down the stairs.

I resumed my slow, ominous march toward my ultimate doom.

Yes, okay, I'm being melodramatic, but you have no idea how freaked out I am right now.

**  
9:35am**

Alright. I've done it.

I dialed the number and hung up at least six times before Edward came in and dialed it for me, then forced me to sit through what felt like an eternity of ringing until someone finally answered.

I was expecting Billy.

I got Jacob.

Just like that. I had been hoping to give the message to Billy and have him pass it on. I wasn't prepared for this.

Edward locked his arms around me in support and I tried to sound confident as I said, "Jacob?"

Jacob? _Jacob_? Way to start off awkward! Why didn't I just call him Mr. Black? Would it have killed me to have called him Jake? It would've at least made things less…_formal_.

But it was already out and now I was just waiting to see if the silence on the other end would conclude with him hanging up on me. It didn't.

"Bella?" It came out slow, quiet, and a bit disbelieving.

My foot started tapping nervously. "Um…hi."

"I don't think I can talk now, Bella. I've gotta go."

"Wait!" I cried, hoping he wouldn't hang up on me anyway. "Jake, this is important. If you'd rather I talked to Sam or someone, that's fine, I just…I have some news I thought the pack might need to know."

There was another long pause. My foot was doing its own drum solo now. I was going to tap myself right off the bed.

"Alright," Jacob finally said, his voice rigid. "What is it?"

"I…I don't think this is something I can explain over the phone. Can I come down later? I won't stay long, but I think the whole pack should be there to hear this."

That was a lie. A complete and total lie. I would much rather just blurt it all out over the phone and then hang up and never, ever, ever have to deal with this insane awkwardness again. But I couldn't, and Edward would never let me anyway. So I sat there while my foot seized uncontrollably and waited through _another_ infinite pause.

"Alright. I'll tell Sam. You can come around noon."

And then he hung up.

Every muscle in my body relaxed at the same moment. If Edward hadn't still been holding me, I would have oozed right onto the floor.

"You did a very good job," Edward encouraged quietly. "You spoke coherent English and everything."

My laugh came out more like a groan.

**  
10:26am**

Alice, Rosalie, and Esme have kicked me out of my room so they can start preparing it from now for tonight. Emmett's been helping by hovering around me, nagging like a worried mother.

He's sweet, but if he doesn't stop asking if I need anything, the first thing I'm going to do when I wake up is put him in a headlock.

And you'd be amazed how much thought they've put into this. They're doing everything from cleaning the sheets and fluffing the pillows on the bed, to adjusting the thermostat to the absolute perfect temperature.

"You guys, I'm not giving birth," I reminded them as they rushed around the house getting all sorts of stuff: water, CDs, a bag of this, a box of that, a rubber chicken. Actually, I'm just kidding about that, but I seriously wouldn't be surprised.

"You're right," Rosalie replied. "This will hurt more."

"Thanks for the sunshine, Rose," I grumbled. "Are you sure I can't have _you_ holding my hand during my change? You dazzling encouragements will do me so much good."

Rosalie gave me a sarcastic smile.

We seem to have settled into what I like to think is a very healthy hate-hate relationship. It's easier to pretend we don't like each other than to admit we do. Makes things less awkward and, strangely enough, more sisterly.

Welcome to the Twilight Zone.

—_insert creepy music here—_

**  
11:39am**

In Edward's car, driving toward La Push at a surprisingly slow speed.

If you can call 90 in a 45 mile an hour zone 'slow'.

But for Edward, it is. And I'm grateful. I'm going crazy with nervousness. I'll do anything to postpone this agony.

Edward's going to get out at the treaty line and let me drive his car up to the house. He says he's fine running back, but he'll probably just pace back and forth in front of the line until I get back.

I can't feel my legs.

**  
11:48am**

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

If I write it enough, it might be true.

**  
1:18pm**

I feel like I've been run over by a steamroller. I'm so exhausted I can barely move. And I'm getting very tired of _being_ tired.

Irony is no fun.

I drove through La Push slow enough to get cut off by butterflies. I pulled up to Jacob's house and got out, feeling the weirdest sense of nostalgia as I gazed at the familiar house. I'd missed this place.

Then the door opened and Billy was there. He waved me inside and wheeled out of sight, leaving the door open for me.

I had the most intense urge to run away. But I didn't. I took a deep, stabilizing breath and went inside.

They were all there. The small house looked cramped with so many huge men standing around in it. Sam sat on the couch with Jacob, all the rest standing around behind them.

They did not look friendly. I didn't fear for my life, or anything, but I had never felt so uncomfortable.

Sam indicated a seat across from him and I sat. I felt like I was in some bad mafia movie. Except that this was very real.

I sat, trying not to look anyone in the eye.

"You had something important you needed to tell us?" Sam prompted, his voice and expression flat.

"Um…yeah." How did I start? From the beginning, I guess. "We—the Cullens and I—" I paused as I realized that I was one of the Cullens now, but figured it best not to correct myself "—have had a visit from the Volturi."

If I'd thought the tension in the room was thick before, it was practically stifling now. Quil pushed away from the wall he'd been leaning on. Paul's whole body twitched like he'd had one giant tick. Jacob's eyes flashed up to mine, and then darted away.

Sam sat forward. "Volturi. You mean those vampire leaders you spoke of before."

I bit my lip and nodded. "Yeah."

Sam nodded. "So you want us to be aware of their presence so we can be prepared. Thank you." He seemed to have drawn his own conclusions, which would make this that much harder.

"That and…there's a bit more."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "How much is 'a bit'?"

I took a deep breath, one of thousands I'd taken since the beginning of the week. "Aro—that's the Volturi leader who's here now; the other two probably stayed in Italy—is calling a sort of…vampire summit."

If I'd known those two words could cause such a reaction, I probably would have used others, any others. Anyone in the room who'd been sitting was suddenly on his feet (besides Billy, of course, though he looked like he'd have jumped up if he could). Paul was having what looked like a full-blown seizure, and all his anger seemed to be focused on me.

"What do you mean—?"

"They can't—"

"We have a treaty!"

"They don't care about your treaty," I interrupted, shouting to be heard.

"You'll have to tell them to have it somewhere else," Sam said, the only relatively calm person in the room. "We won't tolerate the threat to our people."

"And you think they care what we want?" I asked. "If we thought for one second they'd listen to us, we would have told them to have it elsewhere when they came with the news. I didn't come here to ask your permission on their behalf. I came here to warn you so you wouldn't be completely in the dark. And now that I've done that, I'm leaving."

Having over a half-dozen big angry werewolves shout at you has a way of bringing out your temper. And I wasn't going to stay here a minute longer.

I was halfway to the door when a soft voice asked, "Will the Cullens be at this meeting? Or was it just a courtesy that this Aro guy bothered to tell them?"

Embry. I hadn't expected to hear much from him. He was kind of quiet.

"We'll be there," I mumbled, not sure whether to leave anyway or see if they had anything they wanted to say at a normal speaking level.

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean 'we'? You can't be going."

I crossed my arms. "And why can't I?"

"Because they'd kill you," Quil chimed in. I could sense the silent 'duh' at the end of that sentence.

"Well for your information, I _am_ going, but—"

Before I could finish over a half-dozen werewolves were shouting at me again—but this time it was out of—wonder of all wonders—concern. For me.

I know. No one was more shocked than, trust me.

"Are you _insane_—?"

"Do you have a death wish?!"

"You're not thinking clearly—"

Jacob's voice rose above the others, silencing them. "Think it through Bella," he pleaded. "I know you've got a thing for these leeches, but they're not all as perfect as you seem to think your Cullens are. If they cared about you at all, they wouldn't let you go."

I waited for his touching speech to be over. "You done?"

He looked angry that I was dismissing his concern so easily, but he didn't have all of the facts and the constant yelling was cutting my patience dangerously low.

"Look, I don't have a choice about going," I explained. "The Volturi requested the whole Cullen family and I'm part of that family." I scratched the back of my neck uncomfortably and about ten pairs of eyes shifted to my new, shiny wedding band. "Besides, I won't be nearly as appetizing to them then."

I waited for that to sink in and watched as all the angry energy was sucked from the room. Sam sank back down onto the sofa. Quil and Embry looked a bit sick. Paul looked disgusted, but then again, Paul was an intolerant ass, so I hadn't expected much from him.

Jacob looked a bit pale beneath the natural tan of his skin. "When are you…?" He couldn't finish.

I shuffled my feet. "Tonight."

A barely audible tremor went through the room as the weight of that settled on everyone. Well, everyone except me. I'd come to terms with it ages ago. These guys just couldn't fathom why I would want to do something so heinous.

I guess that was good. They'd have to be madly in love with Edward to fully understand my reasoning and I didn't really feel like sharing.

"I should go, but…" I shrugged. "I thought you should know." I left out the 'Oh, yeah, and Edward had to practically drag me kicking and screaming down here to tell you' part.

I left a lot of heavy silence behind me as I hurried out of the house.

For once, I nearly drove at an Edward-approved pace to get back to the treaty line. He appeared in front of the car so fast I almost ran him over. It would have damaged his car more than it damaged him, but I wasn't about to make Kat's mistake and mow him down.

I had barely brought the vehicle to a halt when he pulled open the door and hugged me hard enough crack my spine. "Are you alright?"

I rolled my eyes, secretly glad that he was such a worrywart. "I'm just fine, Spazzy McGee. The werewolves have been told. Nothing more to worry about. Now, get in the car. _I'm_ driving home at _my_ own pace. I don't think my heart can take your manic driving right now."

So. I'm downstairs in the living room now, watching Edward twiddle his thumbs at an incredible speed.

My To Do list is almost complete.

All that's left to do:

Die.

Funny how something so complicated can sound so simple.


	14. Waiting

Alright, this Bella-being-changed horse has been beaten to death so thoroughly, it no longer even resembles a horse. I spent four days trying to think of something original/not disgustingly unrealistic to add and there's nothing, I tell you, NOTHING. I'm almost positive that the phrase "it's all been done" could be used with perfect sincerity in this situation.

So I won't spend too much time talking about that part before or after the change happens.

Now, to** dineka7: **You may not want it, but you're gettin' it anyway! _--glomps--_

_--runs away--_

And I can't believe I forgot to mention **dreams-in-elvish**, one of my more eccentric reviewers, whose reviews provide me with countless minutes of entertainment. Thank you!**

* * *

**

**1:25pm**

This is weird. Everyone's acting so…weird.

Edward I can understand. He's clamped into me like I'm going to dematerialize any minute now and he's the only thing holding me to this earth. It's nice, but I'm going to have to go pee at some point between now and tonight.

So this hugging business stops at the bathroom door.

**  
1:46pm**

Esme and Carlisle have both been by at least ten times to ask how I'm doing. Emmett has plopped down on the couch beside us and turned on the TV to alleviate the mourning atmosphere, but he's looked at the screen maybe twice. The rest of the time he spends staring at me.

Alice is in overdrive, blurring through the house trying to keep herself busy. Edward confided that it's to stave off the nervousness and worry.

And Jasper and Rosalie keep wandering in and out of the living room, supposedly 'looking for things'. But I have my suspicions.

If they want me to be at all comfortable, as they claim they do, the constant staring needs to stop.

**  
1:47pm**

Paddy has marched into the room and sat himself down in front of the couch. Now _he's_ staring at me.

**  
1:50pm**

I can't handle all this stifling silence anymore. I'm going to go crazy, I tell you. Everyone from the family pet up is ogling me like any second now my head's going to pop right off.

If the gawking keeps up, it just might.

**  
1:56pm**

I announced to the room and anyone else who might be hovering outside in the hallway that I had to use the bathroom.

I charged up to the third floor, hurried into the nearest lavatory, and locked the door behind me. I slid to the floor and leaned back against the door.

This was ridiculous. If I wasn't nervous, why was everyone else? Okay, Edward was probably afraid he'd kill me, which was a completely understandable concern, but…

Alright. Okay. If I look at this realistically, I guess I can understand why they'd be worried. But all of _their_ worry is making _me_ worried, when I wasn't at all anxious before. If I'm going to do this, they're going to have to slap on the most convincing smiley faces they can conjure up and BS their way through this.

Otherwise, I'm going to have a nervous breakdown and that won't do anyone any good whatsoever.

**  
2:06pm**

There was a tap on the door. "Do I need to call the paramedics?"

Emmett.

"Did Edward send you?" I asked. My voice came out all muffled, since I'd dropped my head onto my knees out of pure exhaustion.

"Of course not," Emmett replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "I'm here because the _duck_ misses you."

I glared at the door.

Emmett chuckled like he could feel my heated gaze through the wood. "Come back downstairs, Bells. We promise not to watch you anymore. We're just worried, is all."

I got up and cracked the door open cautiously. "You _promise_?"

Emmett's grin was blinding as he held up three fingers. "Scout's honor."

"Fine," I grumbled. "But I'm only doing this for the duck. I don't want him to worry himself to death."

Emmett followed me down the stairs, chuckling to himself.

**  
2:28pm**

I came back into the living room in time to catch the end of Rosalie's sentence. "—give up too."

I frowned. The entire family, save Carlisle—who was doubtless still upstairs—and Esme—who had said something about watering her plants—had convened in the living room while I was gone. "Who's giving up?" I asked, sliding onto the sofa beside Edward.

Alice shook her head. "No one. I've just been telling your hard-headed husband that we know about all the big stuff you'll be leaving behind here and all the wonderful new stuff you'll be getting. But there are tons of little things you'll get too. Things a bit less dramatic than immortality."

I was all ears. "Like what?"

"Like…you'll never have to bother with using the bathroom again."

I thought about that. It was decidedly weird that they'd been discussing my bodily functions while I was away, but I supposed it was a positive thing.

"Yeah, and you won't get all sweaty every time you run," Emmett added. "No body fluids, no mess."

I made a face.

"You won't ever have to pay for expensive food at a movie theatre," Jasper added, skimming through one of Alice's many fashion magazines, looking unenthused. He must've been taking a break from all the heavy stuff.

"Because she won't be able to eat at all," Rosalie piped up. She had half her attention on our conversation and the other half on a movie playing on TV.

"Are we back to that?" Alice asked. "I thought we were trying to cheer Edward up."

"I don't need cheering," Edward insisted.

I snorted. He glared at me. I nuzzled his neck. The glaring immediately stopped.

"Just because I don't sugar coat things doesn't make me a pessimist," Rosalie was saying. I'd missed part of their spat while I was disciplining my hubby. "If you're going to tell her all the positive things, she has to know the negative things as well. It's worth more if the good outweighs the bad, instead of pretending the bad doesn't exist."

"Thank you, Confucius," Alice grumbled.

"She's right," Jasper said. Then, on an entirely different subject, "Who would wear something like this?"

Alice rounded on him. "What do you mean, she's right? Reminding Bella of what's she's going to lose kind of ruins the effect, don't you think? And it's a perfectly nice dress. The color could use some help, but I don't see anything wrong with it."

Jasper looked horrified. "Nothing wrong with it? Alice, it's a fishing net, draped over a woman's body and held on by a string of beads and…is that a seashell?"

Alice rolled her eyes at him. "The dress is just different. Original…"

"The word you're looking for is 'ugly'," Jasper said, laughing quietly.

Alice crossed her arms. "So if I bought that dress and wore it, you would think I looked ugly?"

Uh-oh. I could sense every man in the room tense up. They knew about these kinds of questions. The ones that didn't come equipped with a right answer or an escape hatch or even a gun with a single bullet so you could die with honor.

Jasper didn't even look up from the magazine. "If you bought this dress and put it on, it wouldn't stay on you for long. Obviously it wasn't made with public indecency laws in mind. That woman's breasts are popping out all over the place."

I choked on my laughter.

Alice rolled her eyes. "We're far from the topic and I think it's about time we got back to it."

"What's the point?" I asked. "I think Edward looks cheerful enough, don't you?"

Alice glanced at him and laughed.

Edward was too busy nibbling my ears to notice.

**  
3:04pm**

"You seem very fond of my computer all of a sudden," Edward noted suddenly. The tension in the house had lowered significantly once everyone stopped worrying and started talking. It wasn't gone completely, but I didn't feel like some sort of fascinating test subject anymore, either. A definite plus.

"And you're just now noticing?" I asked, incredulous.

Edward chuckled. "No. I've been curious for a while, but you always look so deep in thought, I don't want to break your concentration. May I ask what it is you're doing?"

"Writing a log of our married life so far," I replied innocently.

"Really? Edward looked very interested all of a sudden. "May I see?"

"Nope."

His brow wrinkled. "Why not?"

"Because."

"That's juvenile, Bella."

"I know you are but what am I?" I joked.

He rolled his eyes. "Alright. If it's that important to you, I'll leave it alone."

I kissed the tip of his nose. "Good boy."

He looked disgruntled. "Should I be offended?"

I just smiled.

He was silent for a moment, while I watched the woman on the television screen gesticulate wildly as she related some amusing story about the man she was dating to her friend.

"Are you alright?" he ventured casually.

I glanced up at his face. It was the picture of calm relaxation. He didn't look the least bit worried.

I didn't buy it for a second.

"Well, for some reason the room keeps tilting and I'm feeling a bit nauseous, but—" Edward's face grew so alarmed I had to stop in the middle of my sentence. "I'm kidding! I _knew_ you were still panicking." I sighed. "Look, Edward, do you want me to spend the last few hours of my life wondering if I'm going to have to resuscitate you when you go into cardiac arrest?"

"You know that's not possible," he said, being deliberately dense.

"I wasn't being literal. But you're making me jumpy and I don't like it. I can't relax until _you_ relax. Does that make sense?"

He smiled sadly. "I'm sorry."

I thought for a moment. Then I got up off the couch and headed for the stairs. "Come on."

He was right behind me. "Where are we going?"

"Upstairs, to talk. This is what married couples do when they're having problems. I've watched enough daytime TV to know that, at least."

Edward frowned. I stumbled on a step and had to grab onto him or risk breaking my neck as I rolled down the stairs.

"I'd hardly call my concern for your comfort a marital problem," Edward disagreed, his hand wrapped supportively around my elbow to keep me from taking any more tumbles. "I think it's my right to be worried. And since you don't seem to be at all anxious, I have to be worried for the both of us now. I think it balances things out."

"I think you're delusional," I commented, pushing open the door to our room. "Hi, Carlisle."

Carlisle looked up from the little white box he'd been messing with. He nodded to us. "Bella. Edward. Can I help you with something?"

"Can we have the room?" I asked, hoping I wasn't interrupting anything important.

Carlisle stood, a smile on his face. "I was just leaving to come see how you were doing. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I assured him, for what felt like the billionth time. I wondered if maybe I should find a blank white T-shirt and write it in big, black marker. It would save a lot of time and energy, that's for sure.

Carlisle nodded again, and hurried from the room. I shut the door behind me and wandered over to the bed, throwing myself onto the pile of newly laundered pillows. I moaned. "Oh my God, what did they do to these pillows? Stuff them with chinchilla fur?"

"That sounds cruel." Edward leaned against the headboard and closed his eyes. "You know their main concern is your comfort."

I did some more moaning and groaning. "I can handle animal cruelty, as long as they don't take away these pillows. And tell Alice, 'thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou' for me." I burrowed deeper and made some more highly inappropriate sounds.

Edward's lips tilted upward. "She can hear you. She says you're welcome, but that it was Rosalie's idea."

"Then tell Rosalie that the minute I regain the use of my legs, she's getting a hug."

I small snicker escaped him, before he said, "Rosalie says 'please don't'.

After a few minutes of listening to me roll around in the Pillows Sent from God, he ventured, eyes still closed, "I assume that whatever you wanted to talk to me about doesn't seem so important in retrospect?"

I poked my head out of the heap of pillow-y goodness. "Oh, yeah. I wanted to…um…say that you…" I couldn't even remember what I'd been meaning to talk to him about. What did talking matter when I was going to have to divorce Edward so I could marry these pillows? "Well," I finally said, "whatever you did wrong, don't do it again."

Edward cracked one eye open and gave me a crooked smile. "Yes, dear."

"Good," I mumbled sinking back into the sea of softness. "Now, get in here," I murmured.

A moment later, Edward's cold arms were wrapping around my waist.

Okay, it's official. I can die happy.

**  
3:36pm**

And of course some timing-challenged idiot decided to call at that exact moment.

Edward's cell phone started ringing from the night stand.

I groaned. "I'll kill them."

The phone was in Edward's hand a second later.

"Hello?" His arm tightened around my waist and I shifted my gaze up to see his expression.

"Well, that's not a happy face," I noted.

Edward ignored me, but spoke coolly into the phone, "Yes, she's here. Yes, of course." He held the phone out to me. I sat up, confused and took it from his hand. Was it Charlie or Renee calling to grill me some more about my plans for Alaska? Who else had this number?

"Hello?"

"Bella?"

My heart tap-danced its way into my throat. "J…Jake?"

"Hey. Um…Sam wanted me to ask you when this bloodsucker slumber party is supposed to happen. You left kind of fast. We didn't have time to ask you."

I didn't know what to say at first. He sounded so…normal. Like this wasn't at all weird. "How did you get this number?" I wanted to know.

"Uh, I called your house and Charlie gave it to me. I hope that's okay. So, when? Do you know?"

"I…uh, h-hold on, I'll ask Edward." I put my hand over the mouthpiece. Edward replied before I could ask.

"Saturday night."

I was shocked. "That soon? Will I even have time to…you know." I curled two of my fingers and put them in front of my mouth like fangs, then wiggled them for emphasis.

Edward laughed. "You'll have time. We'll make sure of it, even if we have to hunt your first meal for you."

Then Jacob's voice came from the phone, sounding vaguely repulsed. "You know I can hear you, right?"

My hand had slipped off the mouthpiece. I hastened to put it back to my ear. "Sorry. It's Saturday at…" I looked to Edward and repeated what he mouthed at me. "Midnight."

Of course. Midnight to vampires and Hollywood script-writers alike was apparently the clichéd time when all spooky business went down.

"Let me guess," I muttered sarcastically to Edward. "Saturday's a full moon too."

"Actually…yes."

My jaw dropped. "Are you serious?" I tsked. "And you vampires wonder why everyone believes the cheesy Hollywood rip-offs. You're embracing the cliché!" Shaking my head in a way that clearly said 'for shame!', I turned my attention back to Jacob. "Was that all you wanted to know?"

"It'd be good to know _where_."

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Jacob, you're not thinking of crashing this particular party are you? Because if you ever do something that incredibly bone-headed, so help me God—!"

"Would you calm down, Bella?" he interrupted, the exasperation in his voice doing a terrible job of hiding his amusement. "We're not crazy. As long as your leeches stay the hell away from our land, they can powwow all they want." There was a pause. "Why? You worried about me?"

I couldn't believe my ears. He was _teasing_ me. At a time like this! Not four hours ago, I had told him that by tomorrow morning I would be well on my way to becoming an animated corpse and he was teasing me? Had he hit his head?

"Have you been sniffing glue?" I asked, not at all politely.

Jacob snorted. "I'll take that as a 'no', then."

I realized he thought that was my answer to his question. I didn't bother to correct him. This was shaping up to be a very surreal conversation. And I kind of wanted to get back to my torrid love affair with my bed linens.

"Is that all, Jake?" I asked, eyeing the pile of pillows with what could only be called lust. Completely understandable, in my opinion, since Edward was still draped across them, looking sinfully tempting. I was two lips and a set of teeth away from drooling all over the phone.

"Yeah," Jacob replied, but his tone said otherwise and, sure enough, a moment later he said, "Actually, I just wanted to let you know that I'm still your friend, Bella. Until you're good and dead, I'll still _be_ your friend. And if you change your mind about…_that_, well, I haven't moved or anything, so…"

I felt a slight throbbing behind my left eye. No way was he still under the delusion that I was going to suddenly "come to my senses" and realize that my husband was an abomination. I slapped a hand over my face. "Jacob," I said slowly. "I am _not_ going to change my mind."

"I know," he sighed.

I blinked in surprise. "You do? Then why—?"

"Because I know you're going to regret it," he said. "Bye, Bella."

He hung up.

I stared bemusedly at the receiver, listening to the dial tone in a state of shock.

"What did you expect?" Edward asked quietly, obviously having heard the whole conversation, even the part where the half of Jacob's brain containing his common sense had fallen out. "He's never going to understand it, Bella. He considers us his natural enemies. Your decision is beyond his comprehension. Asking him to understand it is asking too much."

I glared at the phone, like maybe Jacob could feel my irritation if I just focused hard enough. "That 'natural enemies' nonsense is a crock of baloney and you know it. And so does _he_. But refuses to listen to me when I try to ex—"

I couldn't finish. You see, it's very hard to rant when you've got a two-hundred pound guy on top of you. Not a bad feeling.

"You can't think of anything better to do with your time than worry yourself to death—no pun intended—over Jacob?" He leaned down and kissed me. I went cross-eyed for a moment.

"Um…nope," I bluffed, looking as innocent as my raging hormones would allow.

He kissed me again. I instantly forgot how to tie my shoes. And the first seven letters of the alphabet. "Are you sure you can't think of _anything_?" he asked softly.

I had to work very hard to formulate a sentence that wasn't sexually graphic in nature. "Knitting? That's always fun."

Edward did not look amused.

"Well, fine," I huffed, "If it's that important to you, I suppose I can make this _one_ sacrifice. But I won't enjoy it."

**  
4:24pm**

I was wrong, of course.

**  
4:25pm**

Status report:

Pillows: Still heavenly.

Edward: Still good.

Sex: Still fun.

**  
5:18pm**

I refuse to go back downstairs. Edward has tried every form of persuasion available to him and none of it has worked. Not even the word 'please' combined with the force of his puppy dog eyes will make me move from this bed.

"Bella, be reasonable," Edward chided. "You weren't that loud."

"In this house I don't have to be 'that loud'!" I cried, burying my face in a pillow to try and ease the heat there. I may as well have buried my face in a vat of wet cement for all the comfort it gave.

I was mortified. When you're caught up in the moment, it's surprisingly easy to convince the modest part of your brain that no one cares how much noise you make. But when reality comes crashing back into the picture, you realize that it does matter.

Because _everyone in the house can hear you_.

I groaned into the pillow.

I could hear Edward sigh, exasperated. My head jerked up when I heard the door click shut. Edward had left.

He'd just up and left me!

Was that any way to solve a problem? I was going to have to hold him down and force consecutive episodes of _Oprah_ down his throat until he learned his lesson.

Before I could get myself good and worked up, the door opened and Alice was pushed inside, the door closing behind her.

She rolled her eyes, tiny hands on her tiny hips. "Look, I have better things to do than play mediator between you and Mr. 'I Fear Confrontation' out there. Just come downstairs, already."

I dropped my face back into the pillow and shook my head, uttering a muffled, "No."

The pillow was pulled out of my grasp. Alice sat on the bed in front of me. "Come on, Bella. I've been living in this house for years. Trust me, you learn to live with the idea that everyone in the house always knows what you're doing. It's not that bad. Unless you stay up here and make it worse than it is."

"Hey, I have a perfectly solid reason for wanting to stay up here," I argued. "Unless _you're_ going to be the one to help me cart all these pillows downstairs. Because I'm not leaving them."

Alice smiled. "Fine. Make excuses."

"It's not an excuse," I insisted. "Besides, shouldn't I be resting up for tonight? I hear dying is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Wouldn't want to sleep through that, now would I?"

"Oh, yes, you would," Alice disagreed ominously.

"Thanks," I grumbled. "Now I'm not nervous at all."

**  
5:36pm**

Edward came back into the room and shooed Alice out, thanking her for her help as he pushed her out the door. Unfortunately for him, Paddy came waddling in just as he was about to shut the door behind her. Edward sighed as Paddy hopped over to me and let me hoist him up onto the bed. "That duck has got to go."

"No way," I said adamantly. "I love him too much. If you get rid of him, my heart will break and then you'll have a tearful—not to mention pissed off—wife on your hands. So, you see, it would be in your best interests to keep him." I stroked Paddy's feathered head, smiling triumphantly.

Edward drifted over to me. "Fine," he said, kissing my head. "But I draw the line at letting him sleep in our bed."

**  
6:46pm**

Is it me or is the clock moving especially fast?

I have nothing to write. Nothing is happening. I'm just watching the clock's hands move at super-sonic speed…

**  
6:59pm**

Two hours. Two hours, two hours, two hours.

I feel like I'm in some sort of crappy soap opera and the handsome doctor with the perfect hair and intense eyes has just come up to tell me that I only have a few hours left to live. You'd think I'd be doing something dramatic or life-changing, like parasailing or trying to solve world hunger. Or buying a miniskirt.

Instead, I'm downstairs in the kitchen, sorting through vegetables so I can feed my pet duck before I kick off.

**  
7:02pm**

Wait. What's wrong with Paddy?

**  
7:05pm**

I left him alone for ten minutes to go downstairs and find him something to eat and now he's weaving around the room like a drunk, with this glazed look in his eye.

Like the kind you get from sniffing one too many permanent markers.

**  
7:06pm**

He keeps running into the dresser. Like he thinks if he does it enough times it will move and let him by.

Now he's _quacking_ at it.

I'm pretty sure all the noise he's making is the duck equivalent of telling the dresser to put up its dukes.

**  
7:18pm**

Edward came into the room with a stack of books under one arm. He took one look at Paddy and his eyebrows hopped up to his hairline. "Do I want to know?"

"_I_ don't even know," I replied, watching the poor, deranged animal battling the dresser—and losing. I eyed Edward suspiciously. "Did you do something to him while I was gone?"

"No!" Edward looked shocked that I'd even think such a thing.

"Well, then what—" I stopped as Paddy started making the most awful choking noise. Oh my God, he was dying!

Or so I thought. Turns out I was wrong.

He hacked and honked for a few more seconds while I danced around him, trying to figure out how one might go about giving a duck the Heimlich maneuver, when all of a sudden something fell from his mouth.

I picked it up. It was a piece of thick, white cloth.

A piece of a sock.

He'd _eaten_ a sock. And with my luck it was probably my sock, too.

"That can't be good for him," Edward muttered, dropping his books on the bed and coming closer to peer inside Paddy's mouth.

I was just amazed that he'd managed to eat the _whole_ sock. And then he started frothing. No, I am not kidding. He just started foaming at the mouth, like he had rabies.

"Oh my—!" I jumped back.

Edward, on the other hand, just tsked. "It's not rabies if that's what you're thinking. I'm not sure if ducks can even get rabies."

"Then what is it?" I asked.

"Soap," Edward said, conclusively.

"_Soap?_" I couldn't believe it. I rushed into the bathroom. Sure enough, the room was a mess. And lying at the bottom of the bathtub, along with my washcloth and a battered bottle of shampoo that was leaking white goop, was a large, soggy hunk of soap with a sizeable chunk missing.

When I came back out into the room, Edward was sitting on the bed, thoroughly enthralled in one of his dry-looking volumes and Paddy seemed oblivious to the high concentration of panic coming from his owner (me, obviously; Edward didn't give a rip). He just kept quacking and foaming away.

I put my hands on my hips and glared daggers at Edward. "Does it worry you at all that my duck just washed down a sock with half a bar of bath soap?"

Edward glanced toward Paddy, who was bobbing and weaving his way across the room toward the stereo. "He'll be fine. That soap is non-toxic."

I threw up my hands. "So are most watercolor paints, but that doesn't mean you should _eat _them! He could die!"

"He'll be fine," Edward insisted, getting up and coming over to pull me toward the bed. "And you need to rest, not chase around after an animal that doesn't have sense enough to limit himself to the _edible_ foods you give him."

I wanted to protest, but apart from appearing to have some kind of inner ear problem that caused him to fall on his feathery behind every few seconds, Paddy looked fine. Until he collided with the CD rack, that is. Then he flapped and honked like the world was ending when a handful of CDs practically fell on his head.

I watched for any signs that he might be about to croak, but he just looked a bit startled (and a bit tipsy), so I sat down, but not before telling Edward, "Fine. But if the duck dies, so do you."

Edward's lips curved upward. "I'm terrified. Really."

I jabbed him with my elbow.

Paddy ran into the CD rack again.

**  
7:20pm**

I got Paddy some water and gave him the vegetables I'd meant to feed him. He didn't eat all of it since he was half full already, but I don't want him getting any more cravings for my bath products.

Now that that's done, I'm completely out of things to do and all I have to focus on is the fascinating acrobatic feats my stomach is performing. Even Edward's presence isn't making it better.

I've got the most awful feeling of trepidation. It's like that sensation you get in the pit of your stomach when you're on a roller coaster, going up the first hill, knowing that there's no way to get off, no matter how much you're now regretting getting on the dumb thing. And all the things that could go wrong begin to swim around in your head until you're absolutely positive that you're going to die during the course of this ride. But it doesn't matter that you've discovered this now because, short of jumping off over the side, which would assure a gruesome and painful death, there's nothing you can do but close your eyes, clench your teeth, and go over the edge, preferably screaming your head off.

Have I mentioned that I don't ride roller coasters much? This is exactly why.

Alice has already run through the whole plan with me and it's fairly simple: Get bit, feel excruciating pain, die.

Except that she went into a little bit more detail than that. I just _really_ don't want to think about it.

Crap. Paddy's gotten himself tangled in the stereo wires.

**  
7:45pm**

Taking deep breaths. Taking _very_ deep breaths. Taking very deep breaths that are _not helping at all_.

**  
7:53pm**

Pacing.

**  
8:01pm**

Panicking.

**  
8:07pm**

Had to stop pacing. My foot started doing that seizing thing again, and I almost fell over. I'm on the bed now, immersed completely in pillows. They aren't helping at all. I can hardly feel them. Edward is holding my hand, but not saying anything, though it looks like he wants to. I'm glad he's letting me think.

Another part of me wishes he would have picked another time to be understanding. I could really use a distraction right about now.

**  
8:14pm**

Still sitting on the bed, holding onto Edward for dear life and trying to distract myself by attempting to name all 50 states without using a map (harder than it sounds; everyone always forgets Delaware).

I'm gripping Edward's hand so tight that if he were human it would be nothing more than a mangled stub.

But since he isn't, he doesn't seem to notice. His eyes are on my face and have been for the past few minutes. He looks agonized that he can't do anything to ease my nerves.

And, yes, I know, I spent all afternoon going on and on and on about how he needed to relax, and being nervous was just silly, and I knew what I was doing, but…

I was so wrong.

**8:35pm**

"Do you want something to eat?" Edward ventured, peering into my face. "I can get you something if—" He stopped as I shook my head vigorously. Anything I tried to eat now would probably make a U-turn at my stomach and come right back up.

I curled my knees into my chest and leaned against him. "Hey," I murmured, thinking of something and latching onto the possible distraction. "This meeting everyone's so hung up on…what's it about? We've been talking about it like we don't even know what it's about. But you know, don't you?"

Edward's face went flat, but his hand tightened around mine. I wiggled my fingers, letting him know that I wasn't dead quite yet and, therefore, still needed circulation in my hand. He relaxed his hold, but his face stayed the same.

When he finally answered (and let me tell you, he certainly took his sweet time), he seemed to be struggling to choose the correct words. "It's a very...complicated...situation. I think that it would be easiest…_wisest_ for you to wait until the meeting and find out with everyone else. Aro can explain it better than I can."

I stared at his face. "If you heard it from his head, I'm sure you'll be able to explain it just as well as he can. Besides, I don't want to be the only one in this house who's left in the dark—"

Edward was shaking his head before I'd finished. "I haven't told anyone else. I think it would be best for them to find out at the meeting also."

I turned to face him, analyzing his expression. Not that there was much there to analyze. He'd put on a very effective mask that kept any telltale emotions from slipping through. His eyes, however, were another matter.

"You're worried," I observed, pulling my hand from his. "What could be so bad about a new law? They're restricting something, right? It means that there's one more thing out there that your non-vegetarian counterparts can't do. How can that be _bad_?" Edward didn't answer, but I turned my own question over and over in my head until something occurred to me. I glanced at him suspiciously. "You _were_ telling the truth when you told me they were announcing a law, right? This isn't one of your many ploys to keep me out of the loop for my own "protection"—" I made sure to put a lot of indignant emphasis on the air quotes I placed around that word "—is it?"

"No," Edward sighed, taking my hand back. "I was telling the truth. I just don't think that this is the kind of news I should be delivering."

I rolled my eyes. "You make it sound like someone's dying. Is it me? Does some other crazed vampire have a vendetta against me? Because I think that's kind of a moot point now."

Edward shook his head gravely. "If that were the case, our family would already know."

I threw up my hands. "Well, then what is it? Why are you being so secretive?"

"Bella, I can't—"

Before he could finish, there was a quick knock on the door and Emmett came barging in without waiting for a reply. "Hi. Sorry if I'm interrupting, but I think it's about time we all said our goodbyes and got Bella all set up for the night. Carlisle's got to set up the IV, too."

I stared at Edward for a minute, but his expression clearly said that I wasn't getting anything out of him tonight. I sighed.

I guessed I'd have to wait until this whole thing was over. I would get it out of him then.

Because in a few days, I'd have the added benefit of being able to kick his ass all the way to Anchorage on my side.


	15. Brand New

These entries take place about fifteen hours after Bella wakes up because, well, if you'd just been turned into a vampire would your first priority be to write it down in your diary?

Actually...maybe. But it's not Bella's. Sorry if she doesn't dwell too much on how momentous the occasion is, but I really don't have the patience for a Bella who spends ten pages talking about how amazing it is that she's dead. Sorry. I'd much rather follow the antics of a frenzied Alice and a pants-stealing Esme and I know (deep down) so would you.

Anyway, I hope it's not too confusing, since she's writing about earlier events _and_ what's going on in the present.

I'd like to say HAPPY (belated) BIRTHDAY to **pepper66**'s little sister. Any ten-year-old that can think up the idea for a vamp-duck must be amazing. Sorry I couldn't update fast enough. I'm TRYING, I swear I am!

Thanks for all the reviews. They're very much appreciated.

Oh yeah, and I'm sure Forks really does have a public library, but...work with me, people.**

* * *

**

**Day 10, Saturday  
****5:15pm**

One week. It's been one week since I married Edward. The number of crises that managed to pack themselves into that one week still astounds me.

I don't remember much of anything from the past few days—thank God. It's not exactly a memory I want floating around in my head for the rest of eternity. I know that much, at least, because the small amount I _do_ remember leaves a lot to be desired in the warm, fuzzy, Kodak moment department.

I remember Carlisle setting me up with the intravenous so that I would have a constant supply of painkillers going into my system. I also remember being doped up with enough morphine to drop an elephant. I'm sure they had to take the IV out at some point, whether because I was thrashing around too much, or because my developing body rejected it. I don't know if it helped or not, since I don't know what it would have felt like without the drugs, but if it did succeed in dulling the pain, then whatever the others suffered during their changes must have been excruciating enough to push them to the brink of insanity. Except for Alice, of course, who had apparently already been there.

The only way I can think to describe it, or at least what I remember of it, is the equivalent of all the pain of all the labors I would have gone through had I chosen Jacob over Edward and gone on to have a bunch of little babies, all rolled into one.

So, in a way, The Fates still managed to get their sick kicks.

Thanks, guys.

Anyway, this is my first official entry on my first official day as a (drum roll please)…

Vampire.

I get chills just writing it.

Would it be completely inappropriate for me to do a teeny, tiny happy dance?

After all this time, all these months of anticipation and pounding Edward over the head with constant assurances that I was not, nor had I ever been, empty-headed enough to _not_ think my decisions through before I made them—

Alright, I'll admit that _occasionally_ I've used something other than my very best judgment to make my choices, but this was _not_ one of those times.

Anyway, after all that work and all that worry, it's finally done. I'm finally where I've wanted to be for the longest time.

And everything feels different and smells different and looks different. It's like all the colors in the world were sort of muted before and now someone's turned them up to maximum intensity, and the sounds and smells along with it.

Like one of those cheesy Claritin commercials, where they pull that blurry layer back and suddenly everything's "Claritin clear."

Like that. Only not ludicrously stupid.

It was still dark outside when I came to, and the clock by the bed said that it was around two-thirty in the morning. Of course, I probably woke up earlier than that, since it took me almost fifteen minutes just to turn my head so I could _see_ the clock.

If I'd had any delusions of hopping right out of bed after my change and, I don't know, skipping around the room (I don't think I've ever skipped in my life, but it's just an example), they were thoroughly shattered when I woke up and realized that I couldn't move.

I felt stiff, like every muscle in my body had tightened to the absolute breaking point and no amount of willpower (or cursing) was going to make them unclench.

I swear, the groan that slipped out of me was the tiniest sound I'd ever made, but in a split second, Edward's face was hovering over mine, worry written in clear-cut lines across his face. "Bella? Sweetheart? Are you alright? How are you feeling?" He was whispering, like I was glass and the slightest loud noise would shatter me.

I wanted to reply, wanted to tell him that I was fine, except that his being that close to my face was making me go cross-eyed trying to see him, but my jaw seemed to be welded shut.

I said a lot of four-letter synonyms for "this stinks" that didn't get any farther than my mind.

Edward and I must have some kind of psychic connection, though, because his face smoothed in comprehension. "Muscles stiff?" he asked.

I couldn't have nodded had the fate of the entire world depended upon me doing so.

Instead I made a very pathetic groaning/whimpering noise—one that made Edward laugh. I noted, with some concern, that his laugh sounded almost desperate, like he hadn't laughed in years, and his eyes looked tortured. Exactly how much screaming had I done? Judging by the rawness of my throat, I'd probably put a few good opera sopranos to shame.

"It's alright," he assured me, touching my cheek. "Your body's been tensed against the pain for over three days. You may not have things like a heartbeat anymore, but you still have muscles and I'm sure they're protesting. It will probably take a while for them to loosen up. Aside from that, how do you feel?"

I glared at him. What did he want me to do, blink once for "I'm dandy" and twice for "MEDIC!"?

And then Alice popped into my line of vision (which pretty much consisted of two of the bed posts and a large chunk of the ceiling). "Bella! You're up! I mean, I knew that, but it's good to see you awake, anyway. I missed you. How are you feeling? You _look_ like hell."

"Alice," Edward cautioned. "A little tact please?"

Alice looked affronted. "Who me? Please. My middle name is tact. No one is more tactful than me. My very pores _ooze_ tact. I—" She glanced quickly at my face and cringed. "Yeesh."

She suddenly disappeared again with a loud, "Ow!" and a soft thump as Edward used his foot to push her off the bed.

"Fine," she huffed. I couldn't see her anymore, but, to my utter amazement, I could hear the fibers in her clothes bend as her hands ran over them, brushing off imaginary dirt. I could hear the carpet beneath her feet crunch as she got up and went to stand near the foot of the bed. I could even hear the air slide smoothly over her tongue as she said, "But you'll have to be the one to explain _those_ to her."

I listened as she left the room, fascinated that I could still hear her walking even after she'd left the room. Then I turned my gaze on Edward, my eyes forming the silent question "Explain what?"

Edward smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes and that more than anything else worried me. "Let's take care of your muscles first. You'll be here for hours at this rate and the rest of your family would really like to see you. They've been worried."

As he worked the stiffness out of my muscles, he recounted the past three days for me, not bothering with a description of my change. I didn't need to hear about that and he didn't need to relive it. Instead, he talked about what everyone else had done. Or, to be more specific, how everyone else had coped.

Jasper, Rosalie, and Carlisle had chosen the more healthy option of throwing themselves into their work for the sake of distraction, as opposed to the rest of the family, who'd chosen to stress incessantly.

Rosalie fixed six cars with parts she'd found in various junkyards throughout the west coast. Imagining Rosalie wading through a sea of grease and twisted metal somewhere in northern California was an image that didn't come easily. When I asked Edward what she would do with these cars, he just shrugged and said she'd probably just take them all apart again. A spectacular waste of time, if you ask me.

Jasper had translated Homer's _Iliad_ into Japanese, Finnish and some other language that rolled off of Edward's tongue flawlessly, but that even my new and improved hearing couldn't quite make out. Whatever it was, it sounded like gurgling.

Carlisle had been at the hospital every night and spent the days examining and keeping company one of his patients who had a special skin condition that made him sensitive to sunlight and whose room was proofed against it. Which meant, of course, that Carlisle had a pretty nifty excuse for staying out of the light.

Esme, when she wasn't poking her head in to see how Edward and I were faring, ordered enough crap for the new house to furnish a living room the size of a small, under-developed nation and then baked thirty-eight pies, all of them a beautiful, charred black, none of them edible.

Emmett had paced and paced until, finally, he'd paced himself right through a wall. Completely by accident, Edward assures me, but I'm guessing that Esme's reaction was a little less understanding and a lot more "You've got twenty-four hours to flee the country."

Alice had spent all three days on the internet, making a detailed plan of all the places we would visit while I learned to control my thirst. Her excuse was "because Alaska is mind-numbingly boring." But Edward confided that she's pinpointed the locations of every important fashion event taking place in the course of the next six months and just _happens_ to have them _all_ on our agenda. Joy.

Edward didn't mention what he'd done, except that he'd gotten in a lot of reading. I didn't push the subject. I couldn't have even if I wanted to, since my whole mouth felt like the inside of a rubber glove.

The most interesting story, however, had been Paddy's. Apparently, he'd dealt with his anxiety by eating any and everything he found lying around the house. Not just soap, either. He ate the leaves off some of Esme's plants. He chewed six pages out of Jasper's copy of _War and Peace_. He bit off a lock of Emmett's _hair_. And now Carlisle can't find the key to his Lexus. They've all got a pretty good idea of where it's disappeared to. And I bet you can guess who's going to be digging through duck poo trying to find it.

Yeah. That'd be me.

Hold on, Alice has come in to look for something.

**  
5:32pm**

Alice just tore into the room looking for a pair of boots. When I asked her what they looked like, she rattled off a whole mess of nonsense that sounded a lot like Russian to me.

"They're knee-high Victorian corset boots. Black, handmade, with leather soles and uppers. The laces are Italian satin," she rambled, dropping to the floor to look under the bed. "I am _not_ leaving this house without them. You can't find them anywhere else. I had them shipped all the way from Milan and there is _no way_ I'm leaving them behi—"

"So you think Edward borrowed them for a night on the town?" I interrupted, watching as she stormed into the closet and started tossing things around. "Because I know you aren't under the insane delusion that _I_ would steal your knee-high, lace-up, death-trap boots."

"Ha, ha," Alice called from inside the closet as a sneaker went sailing out into the room, followed by a pair of Edward's jeans and an old T-shirt that had _Valeo Lodge_ stamped across it. "I'm sure Edward would find your drag queen joke hilarious, but I have to finish packing and I can't do that until I _find my boots_." She shouted the end of this sentence from halfway down the hall, already on her way to interrogate someone else about her shoes.

If I'd thought today would be filled with quiet (or even loud) exultation that I had finally joined the Cullen family as a true vampire I was sorely mistaken. By nine this morning I was sore, but had fully regained my ability to move. There were about fifteen minutes of celebration and all was well, and then Alice had what looked like a stroke. Her little frame stiffened, then relaxed and she blinked about twenty times.

She suddenly turned to Esme and started talking at hyper-speed. And, for once, I could actually understand it. "The college is going to call. The date for the student-teacher interviews was moved up. They need you there _tomorrow_."

There was a moment of silence while everyone took that in—and then the room emptied so fast there was nothing left in their wake but dust and tumbleweeds.

I glanced down at the top of Edward's head. "What just happened?"

Edward's voice was muffled against my neck where he'd buried his face. He hadn't come up for air in about six minutes, but I wasn't complaining. "I'm guessing that our trip to Alaska has been moved up. I'm also guessing that we're going to need to start packing. Immediately."

I remembered vaguely that Esme was supposed to start teaching a class at the University of Alaska Southeast in Juneau. She wasn't supposed to start until next semester, though, and Carlisle wasn't needed at the hospital until September. Which was why none of us had done more than drag out our suitcases in preparation for a move that wasn't supposed to happen for another two weeks.

So what am I doing on possibly the most momentous day of my life (Well, death, actually)?

I am up to my ears in the pile of clothes that Alice has deemed unworthy to be taken with us to our new home, trying to find my favorite pair of (apparently out of fashion) jeans and listening to Jasper curse every time he drops one of the piles of books he's transporting from the library to the living room, while Alice rips through the house like a category five hurricane, shouting "WHERE THE HELL ARE MY BOOTS?!"

But don't worry, my family hasn't forgotten about me completely, despite the emergency-packing mayhem. Edward and Jasper—when they're not carrying tottering piles of junk down to the living room to be packed into boxes—keep asking how my throat feels, if I'm hungry, things like that. I realized belatedly that by hungry, they didn't mean "Would you like a few Oreos?" hungry. They meant "Is Paddy starting to look tempting?" hungry.

I don't know what that kind of hunger is supposed to feel like, but I'm not experiencing any dire urges to kill my pet. Though if I find him holed up in a corner with any more of my socks (which, apparently, he now has a fondness for) I may have to do just that.

"That's normal," Jasper told me when I asked him why I wasn't out of my mind with hunger like I'd expected. "You've got high amounts of your own blood in your system right now. That won't last very long, maybe a few more hours. The hunger will probably hit you hard when you least expect it. So make sure you tell us if you're feeling at all strange." And then Alice blew by and he accidentally dropped the stack of books he'd been carrying on his foot.

I figured then would be a great time to boot it out of there, but not before quickly agreeing to alert someone if I felt any Paddy-killing urges.

But so far, nada.

Anyway, it was while I was in the living room, sometime around noon, digging under the couch for my hairbrush, that Alice's words from that morning came back to me: _"Fine, but you'll have to be the one to explain _those_ to her. "_

Immediately I got up and glanced surreptitiously around for a mirror. I knew they thought I hadn't noticed; hadn't noticed that the mirror on the wall in my room had vanished; that the small vanity mirror on the bedside table had been removed; that all the bathrooms doors were firmly closed against something.

Me.

There was something in my reflection that they didn't want me to see and I wanted to know what it was.

I immediately found what I was searching for. It was a medium-sized framed mirror, hanging on the wall between a bust of some old man I'd never seen before and a painting of the back of a woman standing amidst a flock of birds taking flight. I ignored these, but made a mental note to examine them later. Jasper was pawing through a drawer in a side table by the door, mumbling to himself as he searched for something. I ignored him too and charged across the room.

"Oh, jeez, hide the mirror!" I heard Jasper shout behind me. "Bella, stop!"

But it was too late. I'd seen.

In my head, I'd been imagining the worst. Maybe the change had gone horribly wrong and I'd turned into some sort of hideous swamp creature. I'd felt my face on the way over, horrified at the thought, but my skin was still pretty smooth. I hadn't sprouted gills, or horns, or any ridges where they shouldn't be. But then I'd thought that maybe I'd pulled a Dracula and wouldn't be able to see myself at all. How awful would that be? Well, okay, not as awful as the swamp creature theory, but still pretty bad.

And I'd _expected_ my eyes to be a bit frightening-looking because of the color change, but…

But I hadn't expected _this_.

I'd barely caught sight of myself in the mirror when I screamed and stumbled backwards.

Behind me, I heard Edward—who must have dashed downstairs when Jasper started shouting—groan. Masochist that I am, I peered into the mirror again.

"Oh my God," I whimpered, leaning in as close as I could and pulling at the bottoms of my eyes to get a better look. "Oh my _God_."

"Bella, it's not that bad—" Edward began.

"Not that bad?" I hissed, whirling on him. Then I started shrieking. "Not that bad?! I look like Satan! I look possessed! I look…I look…" I turned back to the mirror again and moaned. "Oh my God."

My eyes were red, of course. I'd known that was coming, though I hadn't realized what a shock it would be to see _those_ eyes in _my_ face. They practically glowed, giving me the look of some sort of hell-spawned demon. Which I technically was, but they didn't have to _advertise_ it. Only that, in itself, wasn't what had me so freaked.

The whites of my eyes had soured to a rotted yellow color, shot through with bright red veins and thin rings of gold had erupted around the red irises.

"Wha…how…wha…" I was horrified. Beyond horrified. There wasn't a word in my mental vocabulary big enough to describe exactly how horrified I was. Trust me, I checked.

"You look fine—" Edward tried, but didn't get far.

"I _look_ like I eat small children for fun! I look like a demonic _crackhead_! I look anything but "fine"! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!" I'm pretty sure I was hysterical by then, but who wouldn't be?

"Bella, calm down," Edward said gently, coming up behind me and gripping my arms to stop me from clawing at my face. "They're only temporary. That's just what happens when a vampire with our…dietary habits bites a human. Something in the venom. It's not important." He waved it away. "They'll fade once your blood claims dominance. And they should go back to normal—relatively—after your first meal."

"Well, then let's hop to it," I said, marching toward the door, "because there is no way—"

Edward's arm snaked around my waist and pulled me back. "We don't have time to take you out hunting today, there's too much to do. Emmett will be back soon with something for you." I hadn't even realized Emmett was gone. Is that sad? "We have to finish packing before it's time to leave for the meeting." Edward sighed in my ear. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I figured that you would have already eaten before you saw yourself and it would have been a moot point. I really am sorry."

The last thing I wanted to be right now was reasonable, but he looked so earnest I didn't have much of a choice. The glare I shot him as I headed back up the stairs could have stripped the paint off the side of a house from fifty paces.

And Emmett is still not back, so I still look like a baby-eater, though Alice has let me borrow a pair of her sunglasses for now.

On the plus side, I haven't tripped over anything yet today.

**  
5:41pm**

Seriously. I even got up on the banister and did a little dance. Instead of falling and breaking a hip, I landed gracefully on my feet.

How effing cool is that?

Well, Edward wasn't happy about it, that's for sure, but who cares?

I CAN DANCE!

**  
5:43pm**

No. No, I can't. Apparently that is not part of the vampire-abilities package.

Really glad no one was here to see that.

**  
5:44pm**

And I keep breaking things. I've destroyed at least six shirts and four CDs trying to pack them away. Everything keeps just crumpling beneath my fingers. I'm afraid to pet Paddy. I might snap his little ducky head off.

Wow. Gruesome image.

**  
5:46pm**

Alice still hasn't found her boots and from what I understand if they don't turn up soon there will be a massacre the likes of which the world has never seen.

Mass destruction and total annihilation of the human race will ensue.

All will perish.

I really _am_ going to find a therapist for her, I swear I am.

**  
5:49pm**

Rosalie just went stomping down the hall.

"Alice!" she shouted. "I found about twenty pairs of _your_ shoes in _my_ closet. I distinctly remember telling you that if you ran out of room in your closet to _use Edward's_. If I keep finding your junk in my room, I'm going to build myself a bonfire and you can fish you damn shoes out of the rubble!"

You see? In this family we don't hide our feelings. We share things. We say what we mean.

Alice shouted back, in a voice that sounded decidedly chilling, "If you burn my clothes I'll tear your hair out and feed it to the duck."

How much of a Dr.-Phil-approved family unit are we?

**  
5:51pm**

Thank God. Alice's boots were among the ones Rosalie found in her closet.

The world is safe once again.

**  
5:53pm**

And now Alice has lost a pair of tights. I thought they were just tights, but they must be _sacred_ tights or something, because she's positively blown a gasket.

My advice: Find a trench, hunker down, and pray for daylight.

**  
5:56pm**

And Esme is doing last minute laundry. I would have loved a heads up, but no one told me about it and I didn't know until Esme came in and took all my pants.

Including the ones I was wearing. _Without my permission_. She just pulled them right off me. I was sitting on the floor, half-naked and shell-shocked as I watched her leave, alongside Edward whose shirt had also been confiscated. He, on the other hand, didn't look at all surprised. He just kept tucking shirts into his suitcase.

When he noticed my face, he laughed. "She does it all the time. You get used to it."

Great. So along with being dead and stuck with a sister-in-law who should have been readmitted or shipped off to a funny farm a long time ago, I've also got to face the daily risk of having my pants ripped off at any moment.

If that doesn't make you paranoid, what will?

**  
6:11pm**

Alice came back into my room to look for the tights. I don't know why she bothers. I only own the one skirt and it's not exactly something that requires tights.

Maybe she thinks I borrowed one of her skirts too.

Please.

Because I am apparently a glutton for punishment, I asked her, "What do the tights look like?"

"They're not tights," she grumbled, ransacking the dresser, which, to her dismay (and disgust) only contained books. _What_? We ran out of room on the shelves! "They're fishnets."

I raised an eyebrow. "You lost a pair of leather corset boots and now _fishnets_? Well, it appears to me that someone's been raiding your drawer of hooker clothes."

Alice straightened and shot me a take-your-wit-elsewhere glare. "Just because you dress like a nun doesn't mean that my clothes are prostitute clothes. They're for parties."

"Alice, you live in Forks. They don't have parties here. They don't even have a public library here."

Alice snorted. "Don't I know it."

She was just about to leave, having thoroughly scanned the contents of my closet (which wasn't too difficult since most of it was either in one of my open suitcases or strewn across the bed and floor) when I remembered something.

"Alice!" I hissed, listening carefully for Edward. He was helping Jasper transport boxes downstairs.

Alice glanced at me curiously.

"You know what the Volturi meeting is about, right?" I asked, wondering why this hadn't occurred to me before. "You've seen it."

Alice's expression grew disgruntled. "No. They keep changing it. First it's about hunting ground limits, then it's restrictions for current battles between vampire sects. I don't know whose idea it was, but they're all doing it, right down to the guards. I can't tell which future is true and which ones are false." She grumbled as she left, "I'll give Aro this at least: he knows how to play the game."

**  
6:23 pm**

Edward walked in while I was staring fascinated at the carpet, amazed at how something that had seemed so boring just days ago could be so gripping now.

"Bella," Edward said, cautiously, watching me from the doorway. "Are you alright?"

"Did you know that your carpet has three different shades of beige in it?" I looked up excitedly. "That's amazing!"

Edward chuckled, coming to sit beside me. "I've never really noticed. Nor have I ever seen anyone get so excited over carpet before."

I beamed at him. "Not just carpet. The bed sheets, our clothes, everything! And your hair is mesmerizing." I reached out and brushed my fingers through it. I hadn't thought it was possible for Edward to get anymore stunning, but since I'd come to this morning I hadn't been able to get over it. It was like I was noticing things about him I'd never known were even there before.

Edward's eyes closed as I stroked his hair.

"Hey, you know that story about Zeus and Semele?"I whispered.

"Mmm," Edward murmured vaguely. "Semele was Zeus's lover. Zeus wanted to please her, so he promised to grant her one wish."

"She knew he was a God, but not which God. So she wished to see his true form," I elaborated. "But Zeus knew his form was too great for any mortal to see and live through."

Edward's nod was barely perceptible. "He had to keep his promise, though, and so he revealed himself—and his form was so great that the sight of it killed her. I know the story. Why?"

"Just wanted to warn you so that if I suddenly drop dead, you'll know why."

I'll add that to my list of ways to kill a romantic moment.

Though I, personally, found it hilarious.

Edward...not so much.

**  
6:40pm**

Downstairs in the living room, helping label and close boxes. Alice has used up six of her own suitcases and two of Jasper's. Jasper doesn't look at all upset, probably because this has happened before. A lot.

Alright. We're all packed. Alice's fishnets have officially been declared M.I.A.

She suspects that Paddy may have had something to do with it, but even he isn't _that_ good. He would choke to death if he tried to eat a pair of tights and he doesn't look dead to me. Actually he looks pretty happy right now. He's sitting in Carlisle's lap, looking around at all the commotion like it's a parade.

And, if I'm not mistaken, those bellows are the dulcet tones of Emmett, returning with his kill.

**  
7:28pm**

The reason Emmett took so long getting back is because he didn't just go out and hunt one animal; he brought me a whole selection. Which was sweet of him, really. If only his kindness hadn't resulted in me walking around in Alice's sunglasses for six hours looking like a Matrix-loving, Neo wannabe.

Anyway, here are my notes:

Bear blood is disgusting.

Deer blood isn't so bad.

Goat blood should be declared a hazard to all vampires. It's rank.

I'd been sure that the minute Emmett brought my "dinner" into the house (in tightly sealed jars he kept in a pack on his back) I'd have some kind of attack. I've never liked blood. Obviously.

But—and this may sound bizarre, but, let's face it, my entire life is bizarre—blood has a lot more depth to it than I'd have thought.

Don't get me wrong, it was still odd, drinking animal blood, but I couldn't afford to be picky since, like Jasper had predicted, I'd suddenly become ravenous.

It still stinks on the surface (at least, in my opinion), but when you dissect the smells, it's almost like actual food.

What I want to know is why it all tastes like the kind of food you push to the side of your dinner plate. None of it was actually _good_. It was all just…tolerable.

I was sitting at the kitchen table with the rest of the family crowded around watching me eat like it was a spectator sport when I asked why that was.

"Everyone has their own tastes, just like with human food." Carlisle was the one to explain. "Even down to exotic foods, things you wouldn't find in this country. We eat what we can find, but that isn't much considering our location. However, when we travel, the selection varies dramatically. I find I'm partial to zebra."

I laughed. "Really? You've eaten _zebra_?"

Carlisle nodded. "Edward and Emmett are lucky enough to have their preferred choices near at hand. I believe Alice has a trip planned for you this year. You'll be able to hunt all different kinds of animals in other parts of the world. You'll find yours." He nudged the cup of bear blood toward me, a sympathetic look on his face. "But for now, I'm sorry to say you'll have to settle for this."

Emmett looked offended to have his tastes so maligned.

I patted his hand and took another sip just to make him feel better, then had to fight not to grimace.

Thankfully Esme moved to another topic as she pushed away from the table, one that was designed to distract. "We're going to need to load the boxes into the cars. Everyone make sure you have everything, because once we leave tonight for the meeting we won't be coming back."

So we all headed to the living room to start hauling boxes out to the garage.

But I couldn't help wondering why that simple statement of fact sounded so ominous.


	16. Decree

Random serious chapter. It's necessary since I don't buy into that whole "Bella and Edward defy all biological laws and somehow conceive a child through nothing but the fires of their undying love" stuff. I can read about it, but I can't write it and take it seriously. So I've found the most realistic route I could. If this author's note doesn't make any sense now, it's because I don't want to give too much away...

But don't worry, it will have a happy ending...eventually. Soon. I can only do serious for so long...

If you have any questions about this or any of my chapters, please ask me. I don't want you guys wandering around dazed and confused because I didn't explain something well enough.

**

* * *

**

**9:35pm**

Alright. We have a problem. We've packed all of our things into the cars, but some of it just won't fit. We planned on hiring a moving van for this—or two, because, face it, we've got a lot of stuff—but we didn't have time with such short notice. With the amount of cars in our possession, you'd think we'd have enough space, but Jasper is taking his bike which can only hold so much, and Alice's suitcases alone take up the whole of her trunk and backseat _and_ Carlisle's backseat.

The girl has a LOT of shoes.

And Rosalie isn't much better, with her endless supply of hair products, _all_ of which, she insists, are completely essential and cannot under any circumstances be left behind.

_And_ we still have to leave room for ourselves. It'll be cramped enough as it is.

We've moved things around, but no matter which way you look at it, something's got to give.

Everyone keeps eyeing me. Like it's _my_ fault. Just because my pillows are taking up half a car does not mean that this is my fault! I refuse to get rid of them. There's got to be something else that can go.

**  
9:42pm**

Okay. I've come to terms with it.

We may have to leave Edward behind.

**  
9:56pm**

"Bella," Emmett prompted, exasperatedly after we'd stood there for some time, examining the situation from all angles, "just get rid of something already!"

"Why do_ I_ have to leave something?" I argued. "Make Alice leave one of _her_ suitcases behind. I mean, for God's sake how many pairs of Baloney Malonics do you need?"

"They are called Manolo Blahniks," Alice growled. "And unlike your stupid pillows, they are necessary."

"For _what_?"

I shouldn't have asked. I really _should_ _not_ have asked.

"Each pair," Alice began expertly, "coordinates with a different article of clothing. The navy one matches my black wrap, but if I pair it with a black belt, I have to change the color to the _white_—"

"She's had seventy years to think about this," Jasper whispered in an aside to me as his wife listed the exact connections her forty billion pairs of shoes made to each separate piece of clothing in her wardrobe.

Good grief.

"I don't care," I finally interrupted, turning to Carlisle and Esme, "if we have to strap Alice to the top of her Porsche in order to fit it all, but I'm telling you, NO PILLOW GETS LEFT BEHIND."

Esme bit her lip in what could only be mirth while Carlisle glanced back and forth between his two "daughters". Alice and I both stared back, unbending.

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and mumbled, "I don't know which one of you I'm more afraid of."

"I know how to free up some space," Emmett said, patting his stomach and staring pointedly at Paddy, who was sitting in his cage in the back of my car, squished in with my pillows, chewing happily on a carrot.

I gasped and went to stand protectively in front of my pet.

"Emmett…" Carlisle warned.

Emmett raised his hands in surrender. "Just a suggestion…"

**  
10:07pm**

We've come to a compromise: Everyone can keep their things if I'll let Esme drive my car—freeing up Carlisle's passenger seat for one of Alice's suitcases—and ride in back with the pillows. And the duck.

I think I can live with that.

Alice is glad that she gets to keep her shoes, but she's ticked that I've, yet again, managed to avoid driving the car she bought me.

I like to think I've won this round.

**  
10:17pm**

Wow. I went into the living room to say my final goodbye to the Cullen house and I couldn't believe the change. The house looks so…empty, now. Like it's been picked clean and all that's left is the bone.

It's hollow.

It's almost sad. So much has happened here. _Everything_ has happened here. I mean, I got married here (or at least, in the woods out back). I found Paddy here. Well, _he_ found _me_.

My future found me here, too.

"Ready to go?" Edward asked quietly, coming up behind me.

I leaned back against him and took the room in one more time. "Yeah," I said, finally. "I'm ready."

**  
10:23pm**

I just climbed into the back seat with the pillows. I forgot how amazing they were and I may have shocked a few people with the raunchy noises I made.

But I really don't care. This is going to be the best car ride of my life.

**  
10:29pm**

As everyone was getting into their respective vehicles, Edward leaned into the back of my car and kissed me.

"Your lips aren't cold anymore," I murmured, noticing for the first time.

He smiled. "They are. You just can't feel it because _you're_ cold too."

"Hmm," I said thoughtfully, leaning back against my pillows and closing my eyes. "Interesting."

"Don't get too comfortable," he reminded. "You'll have to get back out soon."

That snapped me out of my pillow-induced stupor. I looked at him inquisitively. "You _sure_ you don't want to tell me what this Volturi thing is all about. It would make me really, _really_ happy." I batted my eyelashes.

He laughed and kissed my forehead. "Sorry, but you'll just have to wait and find out like everyone else."

But his laughter seemed…stilted.

I touched his cheek in a silent question, but he just smiled, pressed my palm to his lips, and backed out of the car, shutting the door behind him.

I sighed, and leaned back into my nest of padding. What had gotten into him?

What could possibly be making Edward so anxious?

Well, I'll find out soon enough, I guess.

**  
10:34pm**

OH. MY. GOD.

I thought it was just the Cullen _kids_ who were psychotic drivers. But obviously the insanity is genetic.

Esme doesn't seem to feel any kind of compulsion to follow our city's traffic laws if the red light she just blew through is any indication. I'm extremely glad that there are no innocent pedestrians wandering around this late at night or we might have a mass homicide on our hands.

**  
10:58pm**

We have arrived! I've probably suffered permanent psychological trauma from being thrown around the back seat of a car for a half hour with my squawking pet duck, but at least I'm still alive. At one point I honestly didn't think I'd make it. If I hadn't been surrounded on all sides by pillows I probably wouldn't have.

By the time Esme swerved to a halt at our predestined location she had managed to run four stop lights, 11 stop signs, and nearly took out a small dog as she careened around a corner and climbed almost completely on top of the sidewalk.

Having Esme as a mother-in-law might just kill me all over again.

Anyway, we're here and I know I shouldn't be excited about this, since whatever it is, it's causing my husband untold anxiety, but all of his secretiveness has made me undeniably curious.

I wondered if maybe there was some kind of underground meeting cavern or something equally impressive where they held events like this, because I couldn't really see Aro and his band of vampy followers gathered around the table in the Forks Community Conference Room down at city hall. It turns out, though, there are plenty of places where large groups of mythical beings can gather—especially since Forks is covered in forests.

So that, of course, is where they're holding it: in the clearing.

Not just _a_ clearing. THE clearing.

The one where the Cullens once played baseball. The one where my two separate families _finally_ learned to get along (temporarily) and fought the newborns.

The one where everything bad that's happened to me in the past year started.

If that's not foreshadowing, what is?

We're about an hour early, but I think the entire family would prefer being early to making a grand entrance when there are others already here. I'm not sure how many of our kind know about our vegetarian lifestyle, but I'm guessing not many.

And I'm also guessing that they wouldn't be all that receptive to the idea.

Anyway, I'm thinking that Aro wouldn't much appreciate me tap-tap-tapping away at my keyboard in the middle of his decree, so I'll have to leave the laptop in the car and memorize everything so I can copy it down later, like I did at the wedding.

It'll be ten times easier now that I have this super-nifty vampire memory. I can actually multi-task now!

The last time I tried to do two things at once, I burned Charlie's dinner and was so busy rushing to stop the smoke alarm that I knocked over an open bottle of bleach onto the load of laundry I'd been about to wash.

All-in-all, it hadn't turned out at all like I'd planned.

Now, I think I could cook, do laundry, and juggle chainsaws all at the same time. That is, if I had any inclination to do something like that. Which I don't, and probably never will. But, I'm just saying.

I could.

**  
11:06pm**

We parked our cars by the side of the forest on an abandoned road that obviously hasn't seen much use. There are other cars, only a few—that I can see—farther along. There must be other early arrivals.

It's strange thinking that I'm going to see other vampires, ones that don't have the same morals as the Cullens.

It's terrifying too.

It's hard to remember that I'm as indestructible as the rest of them now, maybe even more so, when all my insides are thinking up various creative plans for escape.

But my family is here. They'll make sure I don't accidentally get myself killed.

Hopefully.

Even all their efforts combined might not be enough to impede my trouble-attracting abilities.

Anyway. Here we go.

**  
11:11pm**

You haven't lived until you've run headfirst into a tree going two-hundred miles per hour. I guess running only comes naturally to vampires who had some small modicum of dexterity during their human lifetimes.

I did a lot more damage to the tree than to myself. There won't be much environment left if I keep running around knocking down nature wherever I go.

Glad I could provide Emmett with some entertainment, though. His hysterical laughter did wonders for relieving the tension.

**  
11:12pm**

The Volturi guards are already here, but Aro is nowhere to be seen. They're standing stonily in the middle of the clearing, saying nothing, just watching. One of them, one I didn't recognize, nodded to us in greeting as we arrived, and I saw Jane glance our way, but she looked away just as soon, uninterested.

There are others; I can hear them. They're not guards, but early guests. They're staying under the cover of the trees and I can only catch a glimpse or two of movement as they settle themselves for the wait. We've done the same, stopping just behind the front line of trees. It seems safer this way, if none of us can see each other.

Edward is standing unusually close. I can feel the waves of tension and unease rolling off him like a tangible force.

"Are you going to freak out on me?" I asked quietly.

He smiled an unconvincing smile and shook his head, but his arm has casually wrapped itself around my waist and I know that yes, he most certainly _is_ going to freak out on me.

I'm settled next to him now with my back against an oak tree, wondering how long it will be before more "guests" start arriving.

**  
11:15pm**

Not long, apparently. I've counted six more, two in pairs and two alone. I haven't seen any of them, which is the strangest part, but I can hear each time someone new arrives, and there's a low buzz of conversation from every direction. I can also sense a lot of curious gazes on our side of the clearing. We _are_ a large group, I have to admit, compared to the rest.

But it's still disconcerting.

**  
11:21pm**

What _is_ that noise? Those voices sound familiar. And they're getting closer. I think it's…no. It can't be. I thought they'd gone home! But it sounds _just like_—

"…you would just stop being an idiot and let me carry something for you, your back wouldn't hurt and I wouldn't have to listen to your bitching--"

"The last time I let you carry something," a male voice rasped, "you dropped it down an escalator at the airport and security had to come and help me pry my boxer shorts out of the mechanism. I'm not making that mistake again, so you can just stop—!"

"Kat?" I whispered. Sure enough, a second later Kat and Ben came storming into the clearing, Ben loaded down with an insane amount of luggage. Kat was stretching to take a carry-on bag from his hand, but he was holding it high above her head.

"Ben, just let me carry it!" she persisted.

"No" was his simple answer. Except that he said it, once again, in a husky rasp that didn't sound at all like him.

I couldn't help it. I stood up and stepped out from behind the trees before Edward could anchor me to his side. "Kat?" I said again, louder this time.

Kat spun around. Her eyes scanned the trees, squinting through the darkness until her gaze lit on me. Her entire face brightened. "Bella!"

Behind me I heard Edward groan and Alice chuckle.

"It's like having two Bellas," Emmett commented jovially, then grunted—I'm guessing on account of Rosalie's elbow finding his ribs.

Kat sprinted across the clearing and skidded to a halt in front of me, looking thrilled. "You're early!" she trilled, as Ben slouched up behind her, looking like a human pack mule.

"Yeah," I said, curiously, "I am. But why are _you_ here?"

"Oh, Aro's asked us to stay until the end of the meeting. We'll head back to Italy when he does. Don't ask me why. The man is a mystery to me." She shrugged.

I have to say, I was a bit shocked that she could talk about Aro so…flippantly. Like he _wasn't_ ten kinds of scary. I mean, the guy might smile a lot, but beneath that good-humored façade I could almost see how cold three-thousand years of endless existence had made him. Kat didn't seem to see anything of the sort.

"But," Kat continued, unaware of my thoughts, "no one here minds. I have to say, I'm great company," she boasted, jokingly. "Felix over there just _loves_ me."

Felix, who had no doubt heard this, even from a distance, did not look like he felt any such emotion. In fact, his expression grew distinctly peevish as he glared in the opposite direction, at no one in particular.

I didn't bother to wonder how it was that a scrawny, outspoken human (i.e. food) like Kat could get away with something like that when it so obviously irked the massive guard. I just said, "That's nice, but…what happened to Ben's voice?"

"Oh," Kat said, glancing back at him, then waving her hand dismissively. "He made me angry, so I elbowed him in the throat. It's not important. Wow, you look so different!"

I was at a loss for words. Dead or alive, Kat seems to have the same effect on me. Like a hurricane that doesn't know how completely devastating it is.

And then, what she'd said filtered through and I realized that I had no idea _what_ I looked like.

Seriously. _None_.

The only time I'd glanced in the mirror had been to check for deformities and I'd been far too busy wigging out about my eyes to notice anything else.

I knew my body had changed. That much had been obvious, especially when I had hurriedly changed my clothes while we were packing (and then changed my pants _again_ when Esme came in and stole the pair I was wearing) and realized that, where my chest had previously looked like something someone had gone over with a steamroller, I now had definite cleavage. Nothing too pronounced, of course, but what little I did have was a lot more…noticeable.

And, on top of that, my other curves had sort of filled out as well. Again, nothing too overwhelming, but without doubt more impressive than my original figure which was all points and angles.

But that had all been seen from my own personal, aerial view. I hadn't actually _seen_ myself, my _whole_ self. I'd been too busy marveling at the little changes—things like carpet and Edward's hair and the fact that I couldn't open a door without demolishing the handle—to think about finding a mirror and inspecting my new body.

So all I could do when Kat made this oh-so-keen observation was stammer stupidly, "Uh, yeah."

Very eloquent.

"Kat, Ben," a voice interrupted, before Kat could reply. It was Jane. She hadn't moved, nor was she looking in our direction, but she was speaking at a human level, so the two of them could easily hear. "This isn't the time for socializing. Go put your things down and wait by Davide."

Kat looked a bit vexed, but mumbled "gotta go" and headed off in the direction of a tall, slender vampire with brown hair and a stony expression, leaning against a tree on the far left side of the clearing. I hadn't noticed him before.

Ben waved goodbye and loped after her, not looking like he was under any great strain despite the seven bags hanging from his arms.

I watched them go, wondering how it was that two people who seemed so decent (if a bit cracked) could stomach being around people like Jane and Felix and _Davide_ (whoever he was).

Maybe they weren't as moral as I'd first thought.

Or maybe there was something about Jane and Felix that I just couldn't see.

**  
11:36pm**

Wow. How many vampires did they say were invited? Because there's an outrageous amount here and it's not even midnight yet. The amount of space around the clearing is slowing filling in and, as it does, Edward keeps inching closer and closer to me.

He's practically sitting on top of me.

If he keeps this up I may have no choice but to hurt him.

**  
11:38pm**

This is no longer cute. I'm glad that Edward is so concerned about my safety, but he's clinging to me like a mountain goat and I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE.

**  
11:41pm**

"Edward," I said finally, fed up with his paranoia, "No one is going to attack me, alright? The only way that I will end up getting hurt tonight is if you crush me with your overpowering, protect-the-female-at-all-costs, he-man _psychosis_."

His arms, wrapped around me in what had started out as a gentle embrace and evolved into a full-blown bear-hug, slackened almost imperceptibly.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, visibly forcing himself to relax. "I just don't like having you here with all of these…"

He trailed off as his eyes warily followed the vampire couple who had decided to settle down about ten feet from us.

I rolled my eyes and accepted the fact that relaxing was not currently within his power.

Across the clearing I could hear Ben and Kat hissing at each other. I looked up to see that Ben had all but crawled on top of Kat, trying to shield her from the curious and hungry gazes of the vampires.

And she didn't look very happy about it.

It's nice to know I'm not alone.

**  
11:46pm**

I was occupying myself with taking a head count of all the vampires who had arrived so far (at least, the ones I could make out through all the foliage) when the buzz of conversation suddenly stopped. It was immediate, like someone had suddenly hit the mute button on a TV.

My eyes were drawn instantly to the only source of noise in the clearing (the slight rustle of footsteps)—and I realized that I'd been wrong.

Aro _wasn't_ the only Volturi leader who had come to Forks. He'd just been the only one who'd come to see _us_.

I watched as Marcus glided to the center of the clearing. Like one body, the guards shifted until they formed a ring around him.

I turned to glare at Alice, as if to say, "Were you planning on telling me about him?"

Alice just shrugged and said, at the lowest volume possible, "It makes no difference. I decided that it wasn't important."

I didn't particularly agree and was about to start in on Edward, but Marcus was almost immediately followed by Aro, who'd been God-only-knows-where this entire time.

He moved to the center of the clearing with his arms open wide in greeting. "Welcome," he began, looking around at his audience interestedly. He wasn't directly facing us, but I could still feel his gaze somehow. "It appears that everyone has arrived, and ahead of schedule, besides! I see no reason to postpone this any longer. I'm sure you all have other important business to attend to."

He cleared his throat, though I'm sure he didn't need to. "I have gathered you here today to discuss a minor—"

I was distracted from Aro's unfolding speech by a small gasp. I turned to see Alice staring into the clearing, a hand covering her mouth in horror.

Jasper grasped her hand tightly, staring worriedly at her face. I glanced at her questioningly, but she wasn't looking at me. She wasn't looking at anyone. She was _seeing_ something.

And I had a gut feeling that whatever it was, it had everything to do with the subject of this meeting finally being revealed to her.

"Edward—" I breathed, but he pressed his palm over my mouth and shook his head, mouthing, "Just listen."

I didn't know what else I could do, and so I listened.

"—have gotten quite out of control," Aro was saying. His words were stern, but his face still held its pleasant smile. A smile that was starting to look more serial-killer-ish every second. "I understand the inclination you might feel to fight for territories, but I will not allow it to jeopardize our concealment. There have been…decisions made by certain coven leaders, decisions that I cannot, for the sake of our kind, condone. The results of these decisions have become a threat to our society. And so, it is with utmost sincerity that I am inclined to prohibit the forced or voluntary change of any human being who does not have the mental capacity or maturity to understand our laws and protect our secrets. As there is no way to determine this indefinitely, it has been agreed that no child under the age of ten years may be bitten with the intention of change, for _any_ purpose."

There was a brief moment of silence, into which my brain shouted, uncomprehendingly, "WHAT?"

Not out loud, of course. Just in my head.

But before I could finish processing all of that information and turning it into something that actually made sense, voices erupted around us. They weren't loud voices, but they weren't happy voices either.

Finally one vampire stepped through the trees and addressed Aro directly. "With all due respect, Aro," he said, nodding his head deferentially, "I think it's a bit…unreasonable to outlaw any coven's combat techniques. If we make sure that they remain out of the public eye, where is the harm in training them to fight?"

"Children are a simple tool," another voice chimed in, and a tall, dark-haired woman stepped into the clearing next. "They can be taught the rules and used for our purposes. They are easy to conceal and they make deceiving our enemies far more easy. I see no threat in their use for—"

At that point Aro interrupted, but I didn't listen to what he had to say. I had gotten it. It hadn't taken long. The change had sped up my ability to comprehend, and I had finally managed to put all the pieces together to make something:

They were changing children.

Not just for the sake of it, either, or by accident, but to train them for _war_. They were teaching them to fight, using them as tools to win territories.

I felt sick.

"Unfortunately," Aro said, addressing the woman and bringing me back to the present, "it isn't that simple. If all of our coven leaders were as diligent as you claim you are, Ana, we would not have this problem. It is regrettable that these measures need to be taken, but there is undeniable proof that not everyone seems so inclined to accept the responsibility that comes with creating new vampires. _This_ is why we can no longer tolerate it."

As he said this, Aro waved his hand toward Jane, who instantly reached into the center of the circle of guards—and pulled someone out into the open.

The girl had shockingly bright red hair that was thrown into sharp relief by her even brighter red eyes and had one thumb clamped between her tiny lips, sucking vigorously.

"This," Aro said, "is Annie."

She couldn't have been more than five years old.


	17. Annie

Yay, I did it. It took forever, but I did it. Sorry it took so long, I really was trying, but...I NEED TO SLEEP _SOME_TIME, OKAY? As always, thanks for your reviews. They help me find my mistakes and correct them (as best I can). So thank you all. Free cookies for everyone!

Anyway, some quick notes:

In the last chapter, when I said Jasper would be riding his bike, I did NOT mean that he'd be peddling along beside everyone else on his little mountain bike. In the third book, when Edward mentioned that Jasper had been eyeing the motorcycle he bought to go riding with Bella, I just assumed that that morotcycle eventually ended up in Jasper's possession. So by "bike" I meant "motorcycle" (i.e. perfectly acceptable mode of long-distance transportation). I'm sorry if I didn't make that clear. I keep forgetting you guys aren't in my head.

And no, Annie's red hair and the name Annie have absolutely nothing to do with the hit musical. So please do not associate my sweet little vampire baby with that other Annie's Ronald McDonald-esque afro-puff.

There will be no choreographed tap-dancing in my fanfiction.

The end of this chapter marks the end of my serious moment. Until next time...**

* * *

**

**12:00am**

I couldn't breathe.

It was a good thing I didn't need to anymore or I probably would have asphyxiated in the time it took for me to remember how to draw air into my lungs.

She was so tiny. She wasn't any bigger than Aro's knee. The little hand that _wasn't_ serving as tonight's main course was wrapped in the hem of Aro's long robe. Her hair had been pulled into two low pig tails on either side of her head and I vaguely remember wondering who among the Volturi would have taken the time to do something that smacked so of kindness and nurturing. Somehow I couldn't imagine Aro lovingly brushing anyone's hair. But that thought slipped away with all the rest and I was back to wondering _how_.

Why?

She was just so, so…_tiny_. I tried to imagine her going through the change, experiencing that kind of pain. The image came to me with more clarity than I was prepared for; her tiny form twisting in agony.

My stomach contracted until I thought everything inside me would shrivel. I had never considered anything like this. In my perfect, strange world where vampires and werewolves fit like pieces of a puzzle, things like this were the real myths. Things like this _couldn't_ happen, were completely out of the realm of the possible.

But it had happened.

And while I was sitting there, my fingernails digging into Edward's arms as the bottom of my reality dropped out of existence, little bitty Annie didn't look at all fazed.

She didn't seem to know or care that she was a tragedy and she wasn't listening to a word Aro was saying, though he was speaking once again. She was staring raptly into the woods, watching every move Kat and Ben made.

She was hungry.

And obviously her thumb just wasn't cutting it.

"—small town in northern Greece," Aro continued. "There were rumors spreading like wildfire about a demon no bigger than a child living in the forest, who could snap the neck of a grown man and drink his blood without batting an eye. As we arrived they were already sending men out to hunt for her. _That_ is how close we came to being discovered. I will not have it." There were no traces left of Aro's smile and I realized that this law of his hadn't been made because he felt any sympathy for the children who were being slaughtered, but because it might disrupt the delicate balance he'd worked so hard to achieve.

No one in this clearing cared about Annie.

No one except me and—judging by their varied expressions of shock and dismay—my family.

"I realize that this may upset many of you and that is perfectly understandable." Aro's smile slipped back into place as he delivered what sounded like his closing words. "Unfortunately, this is the way it has to be. You will have to limit your…_recruits_ to those of a less tender age. This law is invariable and permanent. Anyone caught disregarding it will, of course, be paid a visit and summarily disposed of, just as I'm afraid our little Annie must be." He sighed regretfully, reaching down to pat Annie's head, but his eyes held no remorse. "Now are there any more questions, disagreements?"

No one was stupid enough to protest. It would be futile, and probably deadly, to argue.

Of course, I was sitting there thinking, "Um, I have one. What exactly do you mean when you say Annie's going to be 'disposed of'?"

Aro's smile grew as the silence did. "Very well. I thank you all for attending. I hope—"

Disposed of? As in…_disposed of_?

"—bid you farewell."

They couldn't be thinking of _killing_ little Annie, could they? As soon as I thought this I realized with no little amount of horror that they most certainly could be. We weren't dealing with the Bleeding Hearts of America, here. This was the Volturi.

And none of them would bother altering their busy schedules of being evil to accommodate a little waste-of-space toddler who obviously didn't know a thing about control or rules (if the way she was straining in the direction of the two humans in the clearing was anything to go by).

But I couldn't let them kill her. _I_ would take her if I had to.

Except that I couldn't seem to make myself move. My lips wouldn't form the words. I just sat there, frozen as the crowd of vampires dispersed slowly until there was no on left but Aro's group. Fear, cold and immobilizing had sunk into my bones and was hanging on with all its might. The thought of standing up and speaking directly to Aro had all my self-preservation instincts shouting, "HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?"

But I had to. I _had_ to.

_Just say the words, Bella, _I coached myself_. I'll take her. I'll take_ _her_.

Aro was leaning down and whispering to Jane. I couldn't hear it, though. I couldn't hear anything except the words I'd begun chanting in my head like a mantra in hopes that they'd tumble out somehow.

_I'll take her. I'll take her. I'll take her._

Jane was lifting Annie up and turning to leave.

_I'll take her_, my mind screamed at me. _I'll take her! SAY IT! I WILL TAKE—_

"We'll take her."

I hadn't said that. Those words hadn't come from me. My words were still trying to elbow their way past the Kansas-sized boulder in my throat.

Aro and his remaining guard, as well as Marcus, turned toward the person who _had_ said it.

Edward.

He was on his feet now, having finally let me go, though he was standing close enough that the tips of his shoes brushed my hips. When I looked up, I could clearly see the determined set of his chin.

I wanted to hug him for doing what I hadn't been able to. But now would probably not be the best time for displays of affection. Not with Aro and his many henchmen looking on.

"You'll take who?" Aro asked with a curious smile, though he knew perfectly well who Edward was referring to.

"The girl," Edward clarified anyway. "We—Bella and I—would be willing to look after her."

Aro's slim eyebrows went up. "Don't you think it wisest to discuss the matter with your coven first?"

"We'll take her," Esme declared, standing beside Edward. "There's no question. We'll _all_ accept her."

"It's why you invited us, isn't it?" Edward asked softly.

I looked up at him again, confused. He was staring intently at Aro as he spoke.

"Why else would we have been asked to come? A coven of vampires who don't attack humans invited to a gathering discussing that very subject?" He shook his head. "It makes no sense—unless you had another reason. Am I wrong?"

Aro was silent for a brief second, and then his laugh split the silent air. "You are very perceptive, Edward. I feel it would be a terrible waste to get rid of her. I had a feeling you would volunteer your services. Thank you." He laughed again. "I suppose there's no keeping it from you, with the advantage you have, hm?" Aro tapped his skull with one skeletal finger. Then he sighed. "If only you would reconsider our offer. Are you quite sure—?"

"Yes," Edward assured him.

Aro nodded as if he'd expected nothing less. "Very well, then. Since I can see that your decision to house little Annie is unanimous…" He trailed off, waving his hand toward Jane again, who came forward with Annie in her arms and handed the squirming child off to Esme. Esme cradled her gently, patting her hair, while Annie stared up at her new keeper inquisitively.

"Now," Aro said, and suddenly he was two feet away, gazing down at me speculatively. He held out one wraith-like hand. "May I inspect our newest member?"

It wasn't so much a request, seeing as denying him was completely out of the question. I stood up slowly, thankful that my new body was sturdy enough that I no longer had shaking legs to worry about. On the inside, though, I was experiencing what could only be characterized as a 10 on the Richter scale.

Aro's cloudy crimson eyes raked my face first and longest, then scanned the rest of me with one sweeping glance. "You are lovely, of course," he said finally, his hands framing my cheeks. Strangely enough, despite Edward's earlier explanation, Aro's hands still felt cold to me. "However…" Aro's brow wrinkled inquiringly. "I would like to know how it is that you seem so immune to our human guests."

At first I didn't understand. I couldn't think with him touching me. I wanted him to stop and, as if he could sense my discomfort, Aro's hands slipped from my face and he took a graceful step back.

"We…"Edward didn't seem to know what to say to this. "We…aren't actually sure." He glanced at me with a look that plainly said, "Would you mind explaining?"

I shrugged, the movement making me look a lot more nonchalant than I felt. "They just…weren't all that tempting," I offered. When all I got was blank stares, I elaborated. "Well, they smelled like _food_, I guess…just not very good food."

And there it was. Possibly the lamest explanation ever given in the _history of time_.

"We haven't had time to explore Bella's unique talents," Carlisle interceded, stepping to the front of the group. The minute I was no longer the center of attention Edward pulled me back into his choke-hold.

Don't ever let anyone tell you that love is a sweet, gentle, soothing emotion.

Love is being nearly strangled to death by your significant other.

"This is the first time Bella has come into contact with humans as she is now. She has only been with us since this morning, after all." There was a barely perceptible undercurrent of accusation in Carlisle's carefully polite words. As if he were chastising Aro for not giving me more time to acclimatize to my new self.

Aro didn't seem bothered. "I see. I always knew she would be special, but this…Well, I must say, the ability to resist temptation so thoroughly will serve her well if she plans to follow the path you have taken." He stared at me, something akin to fascination flashing behind his eyes, before it disappeared, so quickly I couldn't be sure I'd even seen it. "How very interesting…"

I couldn't help but shift awkwardly beneath his gaze.

His smile grew. "There is another quick observation I wished to share, before we take our leave." His eyes fixed on Edward's briefly and then mine again. "Marcus has informed me that your relationship has grown stronger. Impossibly so. He's quite fascinated by you, though he won't admit it." He chuckled good-humoredly. "I, too, am interested in the pair of you. And I'll be keeping an eye on you both." And suddenly he was gone, back in the middle of the clearing, waving goodbye. "Take good care of Annie."

And then he disappeared, taking his party with him.

**  
12:17am**

Well, not all of his party. Kat and Ben couldn't just zip off with rest of them, so Davide, with a long-suffering sigh, waited as Kat scrambled onto his back (with zero assistance from him) and then took off after the others. Kat barely managed to wave before they disappeared into the trees.

Ben gave us a tired goodbye nod and slouched off with his mountain of luggage, no doubt headed toward wherever he'd parked his motorcycle.

The minute the clearing was empty, I expelled all the air I'd had stuck in my lungs.

"So," I asked turning to face my family, who were all peering curiously at Annie, "What does this mean?"

Carlisle shook his head and sighed. "I suppose it means that we have another newborn in the family."

He didn't exactly look thrilled (probably anticipating having another Alice in ten years' time and God knew no one wanted that), but apparently Annie's big eyes, red though they might be, were just too much to resist.

So we headed back to the cars, our newest family member in tow.

**  
12:21am**

"This changes everything," I heard Alice mumble as we sped back to our car, going at a faintly slower pace than when we'd arrived in order to prevent as much damage to the environment as possible.

"Yes," Esme agreed, holding Annie tightly as she ran. "She may be one of our kind, but she _is_ still only five years old. And, unlike Bella, she doesn't seem to have any aversion to humans. It will be difficult teaching her control, harder still because of her age. And I haven't had a room prepared for her! Oh, where am I going to put her? I'll have to let her sleep in a guest room until I can order furnishings for her new room. I can get a little bitty bed for her, maybe one with a canopy, and paint the room pink—"

We could all tell that the combination of a little girl living in her house and the prospect of decorating a room was going to make Esme have some kind of interior design implosion, so Alice was quick to interrupt.

"That's true, but it's not what I was talking about."

Esme looked curious. "Then…_what_ changes everything?"

I should have known from the maniacal glint in her eye what Alice was thinking about. What Alice was _always_ thinking about. "Bella's and my fashion trip—I mean, Europe trip, of course! I picked only large outdoor events so that Bella and I could watch from a safe distance, from rooftops or hills nearby. I mean, she obviously doesn't need to be right up close to see it anymore. But now we can sit in the audience, be a part of it all, since she won't want to eat anyone there. This is great!" She started mumbling to herself in deep contemplation. "I'll have to get passes for us now that we're actually going to be attending the events…and I'll need to figure out a different wardrobe, since we'll be in public, especially in the company of fashion guru's, who I'm sure will be judging our—"

"Alice, we've only seen her reaction to two humans," Carlisle reminded her. "Who knows how she'll react around other humans. Or a crowd of them, as opposed to two."

"She'll react the same," Alice insisted. "I'm betting on it."

I reached over and grabbed Edward's arm, pressing myself to his side so I wouldn't accidentally end up decimating any trees with my outstretched arm. I hissed in his ear, "If you love me at all you will _stop this madness_!"

Edward gazed down at me sympathetically, dodging to the side of a wide tree trunk and pulling me with him. "I do love you, never doubt that…but it's _Alice_. There's just no stopping her."

"Glad you've realized it," Alice affirmed, zipping past with an ecstatic smile on her face. "This is going to be the best trip ever!"

For once, she sounded as young as she looked.

Suicide may be my only remaining option.

**  
12:22am**

Crap. Forgot I'm already dead.

There _is_ no escape!

Well, damn.

**  
12:23am**

We were almost clear of the woods when the strangest smell hit me. It was kind of burnt and kind of woodsy. It smelled like…like burning leaves and wet dog.

Basically, it smelled God-awful.

"What," I choked out, coming to a halt and slapping my hands over my nose, "is that _smell_?"

Edward, who had stopped beside me, along with the rest of the Cullen family, put a hand on my shoulder. "Stop breathing. I know it feels strange, but it should make the smell less intense." He nodded his head into the thinning forest ahead. "It appears your friends didn't bother heeding your warnings."

A moment later I heard it: the rustle of leaves and the crackle of underbrush crunching beneath feet.

Or, in this case, paws.

Beside me, Annie started to squirm in Esme's grasp, whining and coughing, her little fingers rubbing at her nose.

Suddenly, Edward was standing in front of me, my view blocked by his broad back.

"Hey!" I began to protest, but he reached back and squeezed my hand in warning until I went silent.

The crackling grew louder and soon I could hear heartbeats and the rustle of fur.

Then, the crackling stopped. I couldn't see anything, but I had a feeling that if I peered around Edward now, I would see no less than five wolves standing in close formation almost fifteen feet from us.

"We advised you to stay away," Edward said calmly.

There was silence, and finally some more rustling and crackling as one of the wolves receded, only to return in human form. I could tell he had changed; the footsteps were noticeably lighter.

Hopefully he'd remembered to bring pants along with him. What if he hadn't? Maybe _that_ was why Edward didn't want me looking.

Ew. There's a bunch of images I didn't need.

"We decided against taking your word alone that your guests wouldn't harm anyone," Sam's voice explained. "It was safer this way."

Safer for whom? I wanted to ask irritably. Certainly not for the pack. But did anyone listen to me when I gave warnings? Did it ever make the slightest difference what I said?

Nope.

Not at all.

WHY DON'T MEN _LISTEN_?

"That's understandable," Edward agreed, ignoring the way I pinched him in the back for supporting such blatant stupidity. "However—"

"What's…that?" Sam interrupted sharply, and for a moment I thought he had spotted me, but then I noticed Esme pulling Annie closer and I realized that _she'd_ become the center of attention, not me. Annie had chosen to bury her face in Esme's shirt in hopes of combating the awful smell.

"That is what our meeting was about," Edward replied coolly.

I bit my lip, resisting the urge to peer around him so I could see what was going on. I didn't know if the werewolves knew I was here. There was a good chance they didn't—my scent had changed a lot since they'd last seen me. I didn't know what their reaction would be to my…upgrade. But I couldn't dredge up the courage to test the waters, so to speak. Not just yet.

In the meantime, I could practically sense the horror rolling off the wolves as they realized what "that" was.

"How old is she?" Sam breathed. From my position, I could see that Annie had turned her head toward the group now, her nose wrinkled, but her curiosity outweighing her disgust.

"Five," Edward said softly.

There was one human intake of breath and one very canine whimper that was quickly cut off.

Edward nodded in agreement to some statement that none of us could here. "Yes. We'll see to her care."

Sam sighed. "Good."

There was a brief pause and I wondered if Sam realized that he had just admitted (however unintentionally) that the Cullens were capable of nurturing. But that thought was plowed right out of my head after his next question. "And how is Bella?"

My fingers dug into the cloth of Edward's shirt.

"She's fine," Edward answered for me. I dug my nails in harder, this time out of irritation for his high-handedness. I could answer my own questions. "She's also removing the flesh from my back. Did you want to say something, Bella?" He turned to look at me.

I froze like a deer in headlights. _Did_ I want to say something? Oh, God, _did_ I?

"No," was what I wanted to say. What came out was, "Hckfrg."

You could flip through every edition of every English dictionary ever created and you would not find the word "hckfrg" anywhere.

Which was probably why no one knew how to reply to it.

And then Edward, my wonderful, perceptive husband who was always completely aware of my every emotion and thought, took it as a 'yes' and pushed me out into the open.

Thanks, _honey_.

The silence was absolute. No one moved. No one spoke. No one _breathed_. Everyone just stared at me.

Even the Cullens stared at me, like the wolves' astonishment made them want to examine the new Bella all over again.

I wished more than anything that I knew what I looked like now.

The silence lasted only long enough for Jacob to muster up a significant amount of disgust to put into his loud snarl.

I turned to glare at his shaggy wolf form, his lips drawn back over his enormous teeth in a growl. "If you have something you want to say to me, Jacob," I bit out, "you can say it as a person, _to my face_."

"Ah," Edward said lightly, coming up behind me and leaning close to my ear. "I don't think you really want to hear what he has to say about you right now." He sighed and said in a mumble only I could hear, "And I thought Emmett's language was bad."

Well, that just made me madder. I wanted to go up and hit him for being so narrow-minded, so prejudiced, so _stupid_. This time I'd definitely succeed in breaking something other than my hand.

But I couldn't. Even though Jacob was being a complete jerk right now, I couldn't even hate him for it. Because who could blame him, really? He had every right to be upset.

Well, maybe not every right, but every reason. In his eyes, I was an atrocity. In my eyes, I was everything I'd always wanted to be.

There was just no middle ground for us.

With that thought, all the wind went right out of my sails. I sighed and felt my shoulders slump in exhaustion. It hadn't even been a day and I already missed sleep.

"I think it's time for us to go," Esme, surprising everyone, injected firmly.

Edward's hand went to the small of my back and rubbed lightly. "Come on," he murmured soothingly. "You can lay in back with your pillows again and relax until we get to Alaska."

I nodded, but even the prospect of spending several hours with my pillows couldn't lift the heavy weight that had settled on my shoulders. I'd wished that, before we all had to pack up and leave, just once Jacob, and maybe even the rest of the pack, could see things from my perspective. That they might realize that the Cullens, despite being cursed into this endless (possibly soulless) existence, were above reproach.

But it was never going to happen.

As the rest of the Cullens sped off toward the edge of the woods, I turned and waved goodbye to my best friend. "Bye, Jake."

I don't know if he ever waved back.

**  
12:46am**

_Finally_ back in the car, squished in with my pillows and Paddy, who's sleeping for once. Edward and Esme have switched cars. I had to stare pointedly at him, then at my car for about ten minutes before he finally got the hint and asked to change places with her.

I swear, it's like being married to a potato.

**  
12:47am**

It was difficult, deciding who would take Annie in which car. Esme wanted to, of course, but she couldn't exactly drive with the girl on her lap and someone had to keep an eye on her to make sure she didn't eat through the car door and zip off into the horizon. It had become apparent that Annie's ability to sit still was about as good as my ability walk a straight line without running headfirst into a stationary object.

They thought about putting her in my car, but there was absolutely no way to fit her in with the amount of stuff we had packed into the seats.

We were at a complete loss.

In the end, Annie made her own decision, by deciding that Emmett looked like a tastier morsel than her own thumb and latching onto his forearm with her teeth.

Emmett didn't look upset in the least. He smiled down at Annie, who was staring up at him in return, chewing on his arm like she was trying to reach the chocolate-flavored center.

"Is she…okay?" I asked Edward quietly.

Edward shrugged. "I have no idea. But I think she's chosen who she wants to ride with."

Emmett beamed. "I think I like this kid."

He would.

**  
1:09am**

I'm so tired, but no matter how hard I try I can't get to sleep. I know I never will again, but…this is torture.

It was quiet in the car at first, while Edward and I both thought about things. I finally asked him what Aro had said about Annie while I'd been out of it.

Apparently they'd found her living in the woods in Greece. The vampire who had changed her had abandoned her, deciding that he couldn't be bothered to take care of her. She'd been brought to their attention by a quick-spreading rumor that had captivated the superstitious people of Greece and was finally brought to Volterra by a group of vampires visiting from Athens.

I thought about Annie for a while after that. It was sad, thinking that she would be stuck in that little five-year-old's body for the rest of eternity. She'd never grow up. She'd never go to high school. She'd never even be able to fall in love. At least, not with anyone who could love her back.

It seemed obvious after a few minutes that heading down that particular path would lead to nothing but hours of me crying, "Why? Why her? She was so innocent!" in Edward's ear until we got to Alaska.

Then Edward went into a full-blown interrogation about my reactions to Kat and Ben. Did I smell them coming? Did I feel any hunger at all? Did they look different? Did they smell different? Did they yadda, yadda, blahblahblah. It went on for a while. In the end, we came to the conclusion that I have always been and will always be adverse to blood, no matter how important it is to my survival. And that, even as a vampire, I'm weird.

"Edward," I finally said, after another long silence.

"Yes?"

"Did you ever figure out what it was about Kat and Ben that messed with your, um, hearing?"

Edward shook his head, smiling. "I guess it's just another mystery."

I looked out the window thoughtfully. "Oh. Okay."

"On the bright side," Edward said after a pause. "You aren't the only defective one anymore."

He laughed wholeheartedly as I hit him in the head with one of my pillows.


	18. Road Trip, Part Un

I know, I know, this one took me way too long. But I had two days of driving, six cars, and a lot of luggage to work with in this chapter and...well, writer's block.

I spent forever trying to figure out how to make something interesting happen. I figured Annie was a good solution, but couldn't figure out how something she did would affect anyone else when she was in Emmett's car. So I turned to my only remaining option for mayhem: Alice.

And on that foreboding note: Enjoy!

P.S. Oh, and no offense to anyone who lives in Canada. I'm sure it's a very nice place.

P.P.S. Make sure to tell me if I missed anything important. And I promise to have more Edward/Bella time, and more Jasper and Rosalie in the next chapters, as requested by two of my reviewers.

P.P.P.S. Oh, one more quick note: in the last two chapters, some of you might have noticed that I changed the Volturi leader who came to Forks with Aro from Caius to Marcus. Someone pointed out my mistake in saying that Caius could see their relationship, instead of Marcus, who actually has that power. Oopsy. Guess I have to brush up on my Twilight Trivia.

* * *

**1:21am**

I never thought I'd miss sleep this much. The ability to spend the endless boring hours of the night in blissful unconsciousness would be a blessing right now. Especially since Edward has lapsed into one of his deep contemplation stints and has suddenly become mute, leaving me to find other ways of entertaining myself.

There's only so long I can spend watching the other cars on the highway, though this new vampire vision seems to make me more prone to stare stupidly at shiny things (brake lights, etc). That in itself kept me busy for a while, just watching the dance of colors in the artificial red glow.

And, on top of that, there's no longer a bumper sticker anywhere in the world that I can't read. Seriously. Never again will I have to squint tirelessly at some generic snappy saying plastered on the back of someone's rear windshield. Now, I can see with perfect clarity every jackass with the phrase "I Brake for Hooters" slapped on the dented bumper of his chipped, rusted Idiotmobile.

I ask you, who wouldn't want that kind of talent?

Oh, wait, that's right…_me_.

And now, of all times, is when the duck chooses to sleep.

This is ridiculous.

**  
1:24am**

We waved goodbye to Esme as she approached her highway exit, the one leading to the Forks Airport. For some reason it hadn't occurred to me that…well, Alaska is _far_. I'm not kidding. It's about 1,927 miles from Forks (according to MapQuest, anyway; having constant internet access via Edward's laptop makes learning this type of thing fairly effortless).

Which is really, really, _really_ FAR.

This means, of course, that were Esme to drive there with us, she would miss her student-teacher panel by about, oh, maybe, _two days_. Or one, depending on whether or not the entire party planned on driving at Mach 5 for the rest of the trip.

So, obviously, the wisest course of action was to take a plane instead of driving down, so that Esme would get to her conference on time. However, that would leave us with the daunting chore of having to run all the way back to Forks to drive our _cars_ up.

Which would just be a waste of time, really. And who needs the bother?

So we've used up all of two brain cells coming up with the ingenious plan that Esme will fly down on her own while we drive, and one unlucky member of the Cullen family will only have to come all the way back to Forks for _one_ car, instead of seven.

Smart, right?

Wrong.

As Esme peeled away from us waving goodbye, I wanted to fling myself out the door and scream, "Take me with you!"

Because, as much as I love Edward and my crazy, sock-eating duck, if I wanted to _continue_ loving them for any length of time, spending two days in a car with them was not a good idea.

It's situations like this that break marriages, I'm telling you.

**  
1:26am**

I might be forced to sing obnoxious car songs just to stave off the debilitating boredom.

I wonder how Edward would feel about it…

**  
1:29am**

I began tentatively humming "99 bottles of beer on the wall" just to see what Edward's reaction would be. I made it about three seconds into the song before Edward threatened to forcibly remove me from the vehicle.

I'm checking "car songs" off my list of tolerable pastimes…

**  
4:16am**

It's been almost four hours and nothing has happened.

Absolutely _nothing_.

It's like traveling with a corpse.

It _is_ traveling with a corpse.

Luckily I've managed to entertain myself by reading my e-mail. Right now I'm reading Renee's account of her latest life-threatening endeavor, which involved a Western saddle and one very ornery horse named Chico.

**  
4:22am**

As we drove up to the border between Washington and Canada Edward reached into the glove compartment—no mean feat, seeing as he had to maneuver around the two suitcases crammed into the passenger seat, one balancing precariously on top of the other—and handed me a pair of sunglasses.

"Put those on," he ordered. "They'll keep anyone glancing into the backseat from seeing your unnatural eye color."

I sighed as I took them from him. "Sunglasses again? I'm beginning to hate these things."

"It's either this or burying you under your pillows and, while I'm sure you wouldn't object, I think the border police might find it a _bit_ suspicious if they chose to search the car and found you huddled in the backseat under a mountain of cushions."

I put the sunglasses on. "Why? Can't a girl spend some quality time with her bed linens?"

"This may come as a surprise to you," Edward chuckled, inching into the line at the border station behind Alice's Porsche, which was attracting quite a bit of attention, "but not everyone in the world feels such deep affection for their pillows as you do. I might even dare to call it unusual."

Oh, he would, would he?

I leaned forward, placing my chin on the shoulder of his seat and running my finger up the side of his neck. "Don't worry," I whispered, pressing my lips to his ear, "If it ever comes down to you or the pillows, I promise…you'll come in a _very_ close second."

Edward didn't seem to hear what I was saying, though.

The minute I'd touched him, Edward's foot had had some kind of spasm against the gas pedal and the car jumped forward a few inches, nearly scraping Alice's bumper. Alice expressed her displeasure by whipping around in her seat and letting loose a string of foul curse words that caused even the man in the booth, who had just waved her through, to blush.

How good am I?

I swear it's some kind of miracle that I managed to catch the only guy in the world who finds "self-conscious and bumbling" to be an irresistible combination.

**  
4:29am**

We are officially in Canada!

I don't know why I'm so excited, though.

What the hell is so great about Canada?

**  
4:39am**

Nothing, that's what. You'll be amazed to hear this, I'm sure, but Canada has all the same stuff as the U.S. (I know. I'm shocked too), except that they've somehow managed to make it all look even more _boring_. The roads, the trees, the rocks, the _air_, it's like it's all been infused with monotony.

I've only been in this country ten minutes and I already want to go find a cliff and fling myself off.

**  
4:46am**

Edward's cell phone went off while I was staring intently at Paddy willing him to wake up and do something interesting. It was Emmett. His car had been a good distance ahead of us on the almost-empty street for a while now, Emmett driving like a mad-man the entire time.

For some reason Edward held the phone a few inches away from his ear as he answered. The minute Emmett's reply came down the line I realized why.

"This is great!" I heard him bellow into the phone over the sound of loud music and an odd crunching noise that I couldn't place. I could probably have heard him all the way in the backseat even if I were human. He was just that loud. "This kid is a riot! She chews _everything_, though. Rosalie is gonna kill me when she sees the state of her suitcase. But Annie loves my music and she likes it loud just like me. I think I could learn to like having another little si—oh, jeez, hold on—" There was a sound like a phone book being shredded and Emmett cursing and shouting "Put it down!" over the music. A half-mile ahead of us I could see the taillights of Emmett's car swerving around, careening into its neighboring lanes before correcting itself. Then Emmett came back on. "Hey," he said sheepishly. "Edward, you know that, uh, big boring-looking book you put in my car?"

"Yes," Edward replied warily.

"Um…did you actually want it back? Cuz Annie's kind of…making something with it."

"Making something?" Edward asked. "Making _what_?"

"Uh…confetti."

I thought Edward's head was going to do a complete 360. Instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose and said, with exaggerated patience, "Emmett, did you _want_ something?"

"Oh! Yeah!" Emmett yelled. Apparently it didn't occur to him to turn down the music so he could talk at a normal level. "I wanted to see how Bella's holding up. I've gotten about fourteen calls from the women, all wanting me to check and make sure she's still alive, so to speak. Well, that and they want to see how Annie's doing. They're all sure that I'm traumatizing the kid and that she'll get to Alaska knowing how to curse in six different languages."

"And will she?" Edward prompted.

Emmet chuckled. "Not _six_…just two. Anyway, I don't know why they can't just call you themselves, but they keep badgering me. So how is she? And how's the duck?"

Edward sighed. "Bella is fine and the duck is sleeping. Was that all?"

Emmett snorted. "Give the phone to Bella."

Edward stiffened. "Why?"

Rolling my eyes, I reached forward and snatched the phone, still held practically at arm's length, out of Edward's hand, despite his protests. "Hey, Emmett!"

"Bella!" he roared jovially. I flinched. It was like having a bullhorn set off directly in my ear. "Are you feeling alright? Not too hungry are you?"

I shrugged, even though he obviously couldn't see it. "Not really. My throat's kind of raw, but Paddy isn't in any danger of being eaten yet, so I think I'll survive."

"Good," Emmett said, "because I'll be looking forward to taking you out for your first hunt later. See ya!" I could hear him laugh loudly at Edward's barked "Absolutely not!" before he hung up.

"I'm going to kill him, I swear I am," Edward grumbled.

I smiled.

And then Paddy woke up.

**  
4:49am**

Did I say I _wanted_ him awake?

I must have been under the mistaken impression that I owned a nice, quiet, well-behaved duck, when the truth of the matter is, I own Satan with feathers.

**  
4:52am**

The duck will not shut up.

**  
4:54am**

I'm going to strangle him.

He won't stop quacking. He's waddling all around his cage honking at nothing, apparently excited to be in a moving car. Every time he sees a pair of headlights go by (which is rare considering the hour, and always from cars driving in the opposite direction, since it would be highly improbable for any cars behind us to be driving at warp speed, as Edward is doing) he lets out a squawk that could crack glass, and starts flapping like he's sitting front row at a light show.

Edward is threatening to toss him out a window.

I'm not so sure I'd argue at this point.

**  
4:59am**

I had to hurl myself across the back seat to rescue a pair of my underwear, poking out of one of my suitcases, from Paddy's beak. Unfortunately, I didn't quite manage to grapple it from his jaws before he'd ripped off a nice chunk and swallowed it.

I now own my first pair of crotchless panties.

Edward will be thrilled.

**  
5:09am**

The phone rang again. It was Alice this time.

"Edward," she said urgently, "pull over."

Edward frowned. "Why?"

"Just do it," she snapped, then hung up.

Edward sighed a sigh of the truly martyred and pulled off to the side of the highway behind Alice's Porsche. The rest of the cars went on ahead.

Before Edward could finish unlocking his door to see what Alice wanted she was at his window. And he was groaning.

"No," he said firmly, glaring through the window and listening to whatever thoughts Alice was having. "Absolutely not."

Alice smiled understandingly and, with her smile still in place, mouthed a threat through the window that would give any sane person nightmares for the rest of his life. I was suddenly _glad_ I couldn't sleep.

I got out of the car, shutting the door behind me. "What is it, Alice?"

The next thing I knew I was being half-carried to Alice's Porsche. "Stay here," she instructed then flitted to the passenger seat, pulled out a suitcase and a box labeled _books_, whizzed back to my car and threw them in back with no concern for Paddy whose little ducky eyes almost popped out of his little ducky head as the suitcases came careening toward him, crashing against his cage loudly and nearly giving him a little ducky heart attack.

Then she slammed the door shut, sped back toward me and shoved me into the passenger seat.

A split second later she was sitting beside me in the driver's seat, her foot flattening the gas pedal as she shouted back to Edward, "You can have her back in an hour or two!"

Edward did not look pleased, but Alice was already speeding down the empty highway after the others, grinning maniacally.

Oh, what now?

**  
5:28am**

The first thing Alice asked me when I'd settled down was, "So where do you want to go first?"

I blinked uncomprehendingly. "What?"

"Where do you want to go first?" she asked again. When she saw my blank stare, she added, exasperated, "On our Europe trip!"

My jaw went slack. "You were _serious_?"

She stared at me, horrified. "You think I would _joke_ about a trip to Europe? Does this look like a face that _jokes_ about fashion? _Does it_?"

No, it really didn't. It looked like the face of a woman with a few very important screws loose, but not one that would joke about couture.

It also looked like a face that was _not looking at the road_ as it drove fast enough to get us arrested in twenty-eight different American States.

"Alice, I realize that it's not necessary, but could you—?" I cut myself off as she turned back toward the road. "Thanks."

"You haven't answered my question," she prompted.

"I…I don't know. Do I have to go?"

The hell-wrath look on Alice's face said that, yeah, I was going to go, and I was going to like it.

I sighed. "Well, I don't know. I've only ever been to Europe once and it wasn't exactly your typical vacation. Would you mind if we skipped over Italy this time?"

Alice looked crestfallen. "But Italy…_Milan_…"

And then she turned her Bambi eyes on me.

Apparently they're no less effective when you're rocketing down a highway fast enough to break the sound barrier.

I caved. "Fine. We'll go to stupid Milan."

"Yay!" Alice's brief happy dance (which did not involve her having her hands anywhere _near_ the steering wheel), sent us zigzagging all over the highway until I reached over and steadied the car.

"Alice, for the love of God!"

"Alright, alright," she said, batting my hands away. "You're so paranoid."

"I don't think wanting the person driving you to actually have their hands _on_ the steering wheel is an unfair request," I grumbled.

"Yeah, yeah. Look, can you reach in back and grab my black bag? It's got all my plans in it."

Oh, God. She had _plans_.

Wondering if there was some way I could throw her "plans" out the car window and make it look like an accident, I turned and reached into the back seat—and stopped.

"Alice," I said. "What black bag?"

"The one with the long handles," she said. "Actually, it's more of a tote, but—"

I couldn't believe my luck. Some god somewhere was _finally_ on my side.

"Alice, there's no black bag back here." I sat up and looked at her, trying to swallow my grin, since I didn't want to prod her into pushing me out of the car—while we were still moving.

"What do you mean there's no—?" She whipped around in her seat, giving up all pretenses of actually driving the car. But did her foot ease up on the gas pedal? No. If there was even the slightest bend in the road, we'd end up upside-down in a ditch or wrapped around a tree on the side of the road.

I am _never_ driving with Alice again.

"Where is it!" Alice shouted. The next minute her foot had slammed on the brakes and the only thing keeping me from getting better acquainted with the windshield of her Porsche was the seatbelt I'd put on purely from force of habit.

And it was a good thing too, or even now I'd be splayed out on the road with a mouth full of cement.

"Are you crazy!" I shouted, watching in horror as Edward barely managed to swerve around his sister's car, which had come to a complete halt smack in the middle of the highway.

"We have to go back," she mumbled.

Come again?

"Go back?" I asked. "Go back to where? _Forks_?"

She nodded absently. "I could have left it in the garage. I know it's not still in my room, but maybe in the garage. Oh, it had my map in it and everything—"

"Alice, we cannot go all the way back to Forks for a map!"

"Why not?" She looked miffed.

"Because we're already in _Canada_ and it would be a waste of time to turn back around to go get something you can just replace when we get to Juneau."

"But it was color coded," she said like that made all the difference.

"Oh, well that changes everything. I'll call emergency services, and I'm sure they'll get right on it."

Alice frowned, but before she could say anything else, there was a tap on my window. Edward had pulled up beside us right there in the middle of the road and was staring at us.

As I wound down my window, he said, tiredly, "Do I want to know?"

I rolled my eyes. "Alice left her color-coded fashion map at home and now she wants to turn around and drive all the way back to Washington to get it."

Edward didn't look like he knew quite what to say to that. His head dropped onto the steering wheel in exhaustion. I reached over and patted his back sympathetically. "I know. I really have been researching therapists. And if that doesn't work, we can always institutionalize her."

"Har-dee-har-har," Alice grumbled. "And if you want to keep that arm I suggest you bring it back inside the car, because at the moment I don't think I like you well enough to care whether you get to Alaska with all your bits and pieces attached."

I retracted the arm and turned to Alice. "You scare me, you know that?"

Alice smiled. "Don't worry, I grow on you."

"Like a fungus," Edward grumbled.

"What was that?" Alice barked.

"I didn't say anything," Edward said innocently. "But you _do_ realize that you're parked in the middle of the freeway, right?" He glanced into the back seat. "And I think I might have knocked Bella's duck unconscious with that last sharp turn." He turned back to us. "Is it bad that I'm not too upset about that part?"

Alice gave him a disgusted look. "Can we focus on what's important please? If you hadn't noticed, my map is missing!"

"Alice," Edward said annoyed, "it's just a map."

"JUST A MAP!" I swear, Alice's eyes turned red like the fires of hell and her voice dropped an octave.

Edward shot me a look. "I've done all I can. May God have mercy on your soul." And then, leaning quickly out of his window, he kissed my cheek—and drove off like demons were on his tail.

I sighed, and turned to Alice who was looking irritable, but contemplative.

"Alice," I said firmly, "we are _not_ going back to Forks. What we are going to do is drive to Alaska. What we are going to do is get you a new map and let you color-code it to your heart's content. What we are going to do is get this car out of the middle of the road before that semi-truck behind us mows us down and turns your car into a little yellow smudge on the road."

Alice started the car, a decidedly scary look on her face. "Wrong," she said, shifting into drive and slamming on the gas so hard I sunk practically an inch into the cushiony seat. "What we are going to do is find my map. I _know_ I remember putting it away in one of the suitcases, which means that it's here with us. It has to be here. And we are _going_ to find it."

**  
5:44am**

Now, I bet you're wondering how Alice planned on checking all of our suitcases. And if she'd managed to get everyone to agree to pull over to the side of the road so she could go through them all, it would have been simple.

Fortunately—or unfortunately, as the case may be—the Cullens are not stupid and when Alice called them all to report her "emergency" they promptly refused to make a detour so she could find her map.

I believe Rosalie's exact words were, "Not a snowball's chance in hell."

She always has been an eloquent speaker.

But did that stop Alice? No. And will she listen to reason and just wait until we get to Alaska to check for her dumb map? No. And will she go through the trouble of getting out of the car and looking herself?

No. Because she's Alice and she has a perfectly gullible schmuck sitting in the seat next to her.

Which is how I ended up in Rosalie's car.

And just so you know: no, nobody had to pull over to do it.

"Alright," Alice had said back in her Porsche, ignoring me when I tried to speak, "this is what we're going to do. I can't check all of our suitcases and the others have to drive so they can't check them either. Since they're all too pig-headed to see reason and the only one not driving will be you, it's your job to find my black bag and my map. Got it?"

"Not really," I said.

"Good," Alice said, like I'd answered with a "sir, yes sir!" instead of a very shaky negatory. "You've checked all of the suitcases back there, right?" She hitched her thumb toward the back seat.

"Yes," I said tiredly. "Alice, you made me check everything back there. I even went through all of your underwear, which will probably result in years of psychological suffering. If I could sleep, I'd probably wake up screaming in the middle of the night with visions of your undercrackers dancing in my head. I even checked the trunk through the back seat. I have checked every inch of this car and it is not here."

"Exactly," Alice said. "Which is why you're going to go to all the other cars and check for it _there_."

"I'm…I'm sorry?" I stammered. "What was that? I'm sure I misheard you—"

"It's easy," Alice interjected. "I've done it tons of times and now that you're virtually indestructible you can do it too. Since they won't stop all you have to do is hop out of my car and run to one of theirs. Then, when you're done checking one car, if you haven't found the map, you can move on to the next car. Okay?"

I stared at her, wondering if she could actually hear herself when she said things like this or if the haze of crazy blocked it all out. "Alice," I said slowly. "We're in the middle of a busy highway. Anyone can see us. Do you understand what you just told me to—?"

"Yes," Alice said. "And it's too early for there to be a lot of cars out. This stretch of highway will be deserted for at least another twenty minutes. I've checked." She tapped her head. "Don't worry you'll be fine. I do it all the time. Granted, it's usually when Jasper and I are feeling daring, but I'm sure you'll be all right." She frowned. "Unless you trip…" she shrugged. "Well, you'll recover."

"Alice!" I was shocked.

She rolled her eyes at me. "Oh, calm down, Bella. If I thought this was dangerous I wouldn't make you do it. I promise you, you're incident-proof. And besides, I can't really _make_ you do anything. Edward would kill me. So it's all up to you. But…well, don't you want to test your new running abilities?"

"By practicing on solid, stable ground with plenty of supervision? Yes. By flinging myself from a moving vehicle in the middle of a Canadian highway so I can find a map for a trip I'm probably going to spend the next few weeks trying to find a way out of? Not really."

"Bella! Look, the hardest part is getting out. Just run your feet parallel to the ground, but don't touch it until you're sure you're going the same speed as the car. Then, just let go. The worst that can happen is you trip, look silly, and Emmett laughs a lot. That happens all the time. You'll survive." At my hesitation she sighed. "You won't get hurt, I promise. I'm too darn soft where you're concerned to let you do anything too dangerous. This is, if you will, one of our less human games. And this one isn't as parent-approved as baseball." She gave another exaggerated sigh. "If you want I can slow the car down for you."

Something about the way she said it made it sound like a teacher offering to dumb down an already simple lesson for a mentally crippled student.

I don't know what possessed me. Maybe it was because spending the rest of the trip in a car with Alice would be absolute torture if I didn't. Maybe it was because I really _did_ want to see if I could do it.

Maybe Alice's insanity was contagious.

All I know is that I'm now squished in the back seat of Rosalie's car (laptop-less; I'm memorizing again) digging through more underwear, looking for Alice's map.

And I certainly didn't _teleport_ here.

**  
5:47am**

Judging by all the shouting coming through Rosalie's phone, Edward is not a big fan of Alice's map-finding scheme.

Rosalie doesn't appear to be listening. As Edward rants and demands that I be given the phone so he can tell me exactly how stupid he thinks I'm being (like I can't hear him already), Rosalie has set the device on her dashboard and is casually instructing me on where everything is so that I can be thorough in my search before I move on to Emmett's car.

Alice was right, though. Once I'd found my footing and gotten my feet moving, running felt totally natural. Nothing gives you more of a rush than jumping out of a car going a hundred plus miles an hour.

Anyway, Rosalie didn't seem at all surprised when I tapped on her passenger side window. She just leaned over, unlocked the door and laughed as I held it open and tried to figure out how to climb in without breaking anything.

"Don't just jump in," she'd warned me, "or you'll break my car seat. Grab the door frame and lift off from the ground slowly, but make sure you hold the door, or it'll snap shut on you. And be careful with your grip. If you dent my baby I'm pushing you back out of the car, and this time you won't get any warnings."

With that threat in mind I'd managed to slide myself slowly into the seat, thinking skinny thoughts as I tried to fit into a passenger seat packed with luggage, and shut the door behind me.

Unfortunately, from what I can see—and trust me, I've seen a lot more than I wanted to, including a pair of Emmett's boxer shorts that apparently escaped Esme's intense laundry session—Alice's map isn't here.

On to the next car, then.

I wonder how Annie is doing.

**  
5:56am**

Holy hell, it's like Mardi Gras in here. Except less civilized and with a lot more screaming.

By the time I got to Emmett's car Alice had already called to alert everyone about what I was doing. From what I can gather, Carlisle was about as pleased as Edward, whose been following alongside me, trying to coax me back into his car. I refused, mostly because I'm having way too much fun, but also because I'm afraid of the implosion that will take place if I come back to Alice empty-handed. But eventually I'll have to check Edward's car and something tells me that I'll either have to learn how to dematerialize or figure out how Houdini pulled off that vanishing trick of his, because there's really no way he's going to let me out once I'm in.

In any case, I don't know how smart it was, letting Annie ride with Emmett. After a mere six hours she's already bouncing off the walls. The moment I slid into the passenger seat Annie let loose a feral shriek that nearly scared me out of my skin.

"What is _wrong_ with her?" I gasped, staring at the child sitting in Emmett's lap where he'd moved her to make room for me in the car.

"Oh, nothing" Emmett assured. "She's been doing that all night. I think she likes the sound. She'll find another sound she likes soon enough. She was barking a few minutes ago. Hasn't said any actual words in English, though. I don't even know if she speaks English. Probably not. But don't worry, she'll tire herself out soon and then she'll be meek as a kitten, just watch."

I looked at the petite little girl, curled up in her fluffy little dress looking like she belonged in a pink feathery room with prancing unicorns painted on the walls. One look at her eyes told me that was a lie. She actually belonged in a forest somewhere, running around in a loincloth, biting the heads off squirrels and other furry woodland creatures.

Great. We've adopted a Gremlin.

**  
6:04am**

It's not here either and between Emmett's earth-pounding music and Annie's ear-piercing screaming, I may be permanently deaf.

I wonder if Rosalie knows what her husband is doing to our new baby.

Something tells me she wouldn't appreciate it.

**  
6:06am**

I asked Emmett if I could borrow his phone and he tossed it to me without even glancing in my direction, having too much fun dancing idiotically with Annie to a song that, as far as I could tell, had absolutely no rhythm.

"Alice," I called, after she picked up, shouting to be heard over his music. "Couldn't you just _look_ and see if I find the map?"

I could practically see Alice giving me one of those _looks_. "Bella, if I could do that, don't you think I would have done it, instead of having you jump out of my car?"

"I wonder," I grumbled.

She ignored that. "I can't see if you'll find it until you make the decision to look where it is? Get it?"

"Yeah," I said. "But how do you propose I convince Carlisle to let me back out of his car?"

Alice laughed. "I don't. That's a trick you'll never pull off. I'm just hoping it's in with his things. According to my mental calculations, now that you've checked three of the cars and I know for a fact that Esme's car only had boxes of library books in it, there's a seventy-eight percent chance that it's in with him. But he'll let you out eventually, even if they have to stop the cars to do it. I think they've both passed the point where they'll refuse to stop."

"How do you figure?" I asked, glancing out the window as my car pulled up beside me and I saw Edward looking less-than-happy, staring through the windshield like he didn't want to look at me. "Great," I muttered. "Now you've ruined my marriage. I'm going to end up on Jerry Springer before the year is out."

"Well, I'm sure Edward will want to scold you himself and do all that touchy-feely, I'm-so-glad-you-didn't-fall-and-kill-yourself stuff. So he'll have Carlisle hand you off to him. This time at a normal pace and without any speeding vehicles involved. He's so boring," I heard her mumble. "Anyway, get cracking."

And she hung up.

**  
6:15am**

Carlisle is very unhappy with me. He didn't shout or yell when I climbed into his car, but he did reach over and snap on my seatbelt for me.

Then, very calmly, he said, "You do realize that at this rate Edward really might grow gray hairs?"

With that one sentence I felt just awful. I don't know how he did it, but I went from slightly contrite to positively guilt-ridden in a second flat.

"I'm sorry, I—"

"I would have stopped you," he told me casually. "But Edward was too busy trying to get a hold of you to call me and I was too far ahead to see what you were doing. Silly me, I thought my children were old enough to make it through one trip without throwing themselves from their respective vehicles." He didn't say it angrily, but dryly.

Like it was amusing in a not-so-amusing way.

"I really am sorry," I apologized. "I didn't think it was dangerous."

"To be honest with you, it wasn't," Carlisle confided. "You really are incident-proof and, as a newborn you're much less likely to get hurt. Your clothes might have suffered some damage but I had no doubts about you going unscathed. Edward knows it, too. But it's very difficult to see you as the new, resilient Bella as opposed to the old Bella who was constantly tripping over the coffee table."

"That table was out to get me," I muttered.

A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, but other than that Carlisle ignored me. "And, besides that, no man wants to see his wife jump out of a car, even if there's no risk." He glanced at me sideways. "I'm sure Alice told you she and Jasper do it all the time, but did she tell you that the last time she did it, Jasper wouldn't let her anywhere near a car for three months?"

I frowned. She had conveniently left that part out.

Carlisle nodded. "And one more thing." He reached down and handed me his cell phone. "Please call Alice and tell her that the reason I refused to stop was because the sun is rising and I planned on taking a rest soon to change apparel. We'll need clothing that covers our skin if we're going to be driving during the day."

Groaning, I grumbled, "You'd think she'd have seen that one coming."

"Yes, well, Alice can be a bit single-minded. It clouds her vision."

I sighed and started to dial, but before I could finish Carlisle added, "Oh, and could you also tell her that I found her black bag in the living room as we were leaving. I put the map and the bag in her glove compartment."

I am going to _strangle_ Alice.


	19. Road Trip, Part Deux

You guys are crazy-good at that guilt-tripping business. Every time one of you sent me a message asking me why I hadn't updated, I died a little more inside. Okay, not really, but I felt bad. And I would have hurried through and written you something to get you by, but I would rather give you something good after a two-week wait than complete crap after one day.

Right?

Well, as it is, I'm not sure how great this chapter is. I'm honestly trying to get this road trip over with because it presents very few opportunities for comedy. You might notice that I start spacing Bella's entries farther apart near the end, so they should be in Alaska soon. I do my best, as always, and I hope it meets your standards. But just so you know, this two-week hiatus wasn't done on purpose. I spilled boiling water over my hand the other day making tea and have had to hunt-and-peck-type with one hand since the other is temporarily out of service until the burns heal (that actually sounds a lot worse than it is, though, so please don't pity me).

But I'm never drinking tea again. (Which, of course, means I'm going to go make a cup right now).

* * *

**6:23am**

It's as still as death in this car. Edward is either in deep meditation over what my punishment will be, or he's just plain ignoring me.

**  
6:26am**

Alice was, needless to say, disgruntled that I didn't get to see her color-coded masterpiece after all, but even she isn't crazy enough to get in Edward's way when he's in one of his moods.

And by the way he all but dragged me back to his car, it wasn't hard to see that he most definitely _was_ in one of his moods.

But after all that blustering over the phone, he doesn't seem to have that much to say to me.

Unless his plan is to let me wallow in guilt for a while.

Which, of course, isn't working.

Since, obviously, I have nothing to feel guilty about.

Right?

**  
6:29am**

GUILTGUILTGUILTGUILT. I am wallowing under a permanent, ink-black cloud of festering GUILT.

How does he DO that?

****

6:38am

"So…" I said, after a very long silence. "I'm guessing a simple 'I'm sorry' isn't going to cut it this time?"

He didn't reply.

"I really, really am sorry," I said sincerely.

Nothing.

I leaned over and rested my head on his shoulder. "Are you going to make me grovel?"

His eyes remained glued on the road, but one eyebrow rose in interest.

I snorted. "Sorry to disappoint you, but the fact that you overreacted yet again is not enough to induce begging. Not from me anyway."

"You seem to be confused about what qualifies as an apology," Edward grumbled.

I sighed heavily. "I'll apologize for worrying you so much and I'll even apologize for sticking my tongue out at you when you tried to drag me back into your car. But you have to admit that your incessantly fretting over me like a mother hen is getting out of control. I was engaging in a perfectly harmless activity—"

"Bella, you jumped out of a car!" Edward exclaimed, turning to glare at me. "Alice's car! I've _seen_ Alice drive and know for a fact that she doesn't always feel obligated to keep her hands on the steering wheel. Or stay on the road, for that matter!"

Hm. He had me there.

"Says the man who's been staring at me instead of the road for the past thirty seconds," I pointed out.

Edward's eyes swung back around to the long stretch of highway in front of him. The sky had brightened considerably to a pale gray-blue and I hoped Carlisle's stop was coming up soon. It wouldn't be long before sunrise.

As if he'd read my mind, the phone went off in Edward's pocket and was in his hand in a second.

Sure enough, it was Carlisle.

I listened with half an ear as Edward "mm-hmm"ed and "yes, of course"ed into the phone. I could hear Carlisle on the other end almost as if he were sitting next to me, but when Edward had put the phone to his ear, his hand had brushed against a lock of his hair and I was too busy watching it sway and ripple in mesmerizing patterns to really listen to the conversation. Then I noticed that his knuckles were sort of brushing against the skin at the top of his neck. If I listened closely over the sound of his and Carlisle's voices I could hear skin rubbing against skin and—

A distinct sense of déjà vu rolled over me as I realized that the strange burning, itching sensation that was suddenly covering every inch of my skin—and wasn't necessarily a _bad_ sensation—felt a lot like the affliction I'd had while walking down the aisle last week.

And, yeah, that urge to bite Edward in various naughty places? It was back.

With a vengeance.

Unaware that his wife had just slipped into a very dangerous state of rampant lust, Edward said one final "alright" into the phone and then hung up. He sighed without looking at me, then closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat.

If he'd been paying any attention at all, he would have realized that me not screaming "Look at the road!" the instant he did this was a sign of bad things to come. But since he was apparently too deep in thought to notice, he simply sighed again, opened his eyes and, gaze still on the road, reached over and took my hand.

"We'll talk about this later, Bella," he said, still completely oblivious. "For now we'll call it a draw, alright? Carlisle's stop is up ahead and we need to figure out what we're going to do with Annie? Make sure you grab a change of clothes that's long-sleeved, preferably a turtle-neck and a pair of jeans without rips in them. We'll have to cover as much skin as possible if we're going to be driving out in daylight."

My reply was some sort of garbled gibberish, but apparently Edward is fluent in that language too because he smiled and rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand.

And now I am using my other hand to write out anything, ANYTHING AT ALL, that will keep my mind off of Edward's neck.

Is it weird to say that his neck looks delicious? And I don't think that this is just some kind of vampire hunger thing either because the urge I'm feeling right now is not to pounce on him and rip out his jugular.

How romantic would that be?

**  
6:41am**

Okay. We're here. Wherever "here" is. It looks like some kind of rest station for people traveling long distances. I vaguely recall passing about six _billion_ of these on our drive so far.

Anyway, I'll be able to get out of the car and get some fresh air, away from the overwhelming smell of Edward.

Because seriously, his life (and shirt, and pants, and all other articles of clothing separating his skin from mine) might be in danger.

Okay. I can do this. Here we go.

**  
6:52am**

Alright. I've managed to put as much distance as possible between myself and Edward. Which actually puts me in a small shop on the opposite side of the building, like the kinds of little stores you might find in an airport. On the plus side, it's far, far away from the restrooms, where I changed fast enough to give myself cloth burn (if I were human) and then stuttered something about looking around to Alice in the neighboring stall, before taking off.

The store is almost completely empty except for the pimply-faced checkout clerk who obviously got duped into taking this shift. He was half asleep behind the desk when I came in, but he seemed to snap to attention when he got a good look at me and he's been blatantly ogling every inch of my sweater-clad figure ever since.

That's right. _Me_. Being ogled. By a guy.

But unfortunately, after blowing in and out of the bathroom too quickly to look in the mirror, I still don't know what I look like. You'd think something this important wouldn't keep slipping my mind (I could have grown _horns_ for all I know), but somehow it continues to do just that.

Actually, I'm guessing it got trampled by the earth-shaking stampede of X-rated thoughts about a certain _someone_.

Yeah, that'll be it.

**  
6:54am**

It's only a matter of time before Edward comes to look for me. We can't stay long, since Emmett is waiting out in the car with Annie. Leaving her alone while we changed was obviously not an option so we left Emmett with her to make sure she didn't go into bloodlust and attack any unsuspecting village people who happened by.

If I can just get myself under control, this itchy, jumpy feeling will go away and I'll be able to make it for at least a few more hours without attacking him.

I hope.

But…this store clerk doesn't seem to have any natural inclination to blink.

**  
6:56am**

Really, the staring is getting kind of creepy.

**  
6:57am**

And is it just my imagination or is he breathing really heavily?

**  
6:59am**

That's it. I am _going_ to find a mirror and I don't care who I have to kill to do it.

**  
7:09am**

Crap. I knew I didn't have much time and I was right. Edward found me just as I was leaving the store.

"Hey," he said curiously. "Alice said you changed and then left. Are you okay?"

Ah, to lie or not to lie? _That_ is the question.

I could tell him. I could just come right out and say, "Would you mind at all if I stripped you down and had my way with you? Pretty please?"

But we were still new to this and something told me that Edward would be too much of a gentleman to do _that_ without a bed anywhere in sight.

He's so old-fashioned it's painful.

Then again, I'm not exactly rebellious myself.

I mean, I own _three_ mops. When I'm nervous, I vacuum. Not really signs of an untamed spirit.

So I lied. But it was just a little lie. It wasn't even a lie, actually. Just an omission of facts. Which is NOT a lie.

Not really, anyway.

"I'm just feeling a little dizzy," I said, obviously NOT LYING.

Edward looked concerned. "Maybe you're hungry," he murmured, reaching out and touching my face.

It felt like I'd been hit by a brick. Which, of course, left me with a very intelligent "struck by a heavy object" look on my face.

And everyone knows that look practically screams "come hither."

All I know is that we still have a very _long_ drive ahead of us.

**  
7:13am**

We're back in the car. Emmett's run in to change and Rosalie is in charge of Annie until he gets back.

My mouth has gone completely dry and I think all this constrained lust is making my tongue swell up.

It's like chewing on a baseball.

**  
7:14am**

Covered in sandpaper

**  
7:18am**

We're back on the road. I'm not sure why I was complaining about Edward's manic driving before.

Now, we can't get to Alaska fast enough.

**  
7:21am**

Amazingly enough, the drudgery of this Canadian "scenery" (i.e. views of a desolate, barren _wasteland_) has succeeded in bludgeoning my libido down to an almost tolerable level.

Nothing kills lust like miles and miles of NOTHING.

**  
7:23am**

Not that I'm cured or anything. All of this pent-up energy is making my hands twitch. I hope Edward doesn't notice. He might think I have some kind of neurological disorder.

**  
7:27am**

Asked Edward if I could ride with Alice again (but didn't mention that it was because I was mere seconds away from possibly raping him).

He looked at me like I was insane, which I took as a "no."

It's like he thinks he can't trust us to behave rationally when we're together!

He can't, of course, but that's not really the point, now is it?

**  
9:25am**

We are in hour eight of our trip. I've done the calculations in my head and if we keep going at this same speed for the next 1300 or so miles we'll get there in…

Um…wait.

Forget it. Trying to think when your entire body feels like boiled Jell-O is pointless. I think bottling all that feeling up inside caused me to short-circuit. Now I'm slumped pathetically in my seat and Edward keeps eyeing me in a very panicky way, asking every five seconds, "Are you _sure_ you're alright?" and "You're not hungry_ at all_?"

It's sweet. In a completely oblivious sort of way.

**  
1:11pm**

Interesting things have been happening. Not interesting enough for me to actually record them, obviously. But interesting.

Luckily, it's distracted me from the pull of my, er…_baser_ needs.

For now, anyway.

So here's what happened: Emmett was wrong. Annie did NOT calm down. If anything, she got worse. He called around at about 9:45 to beg someone, ANYONE, to take her. He said she kept attacking his feet beneath the dashboard.

"If one of you doesn't pull over and get this kid, I'm strapping her to the roof and I don't care who sees!"

And then he hung up.

So, to save the poor girl a good ten years spent in psychotherapy, we insisted she be handed off to Rosalie, who, of course, didn't object. As we'd been heading to our cars after the Volturi meeting, I'd caught her more than once gazing at Annie with that adoring look that I've only ever seen her give Emmett when she thinks no one is looking.

I was happy for Rosalie, who would finally get the baby she'd always wanted. Albeit, the baby would be a baby for the rest of eternity, she would probably have to share with Alice and Esme, and, oh yeah, the kid was a _Devil's spawn_, but beggars can't be choosers, right?

And Rosalie was pretty excited at first, too. You could just tell. Even over the phone. She sounded nonchalant, but she said 'yes' just a little too quickly and a little too emphatically.

So I knew: she was excited.

Not one hour after the exchange, Carlisle called us to say that Rosalie was threatening to leave Annie on the side of the road if someone didn't come and get her NOW.

Apparently, Annie has a thing for blonde hair. She likes looking at it and touching…and pulling it.

Repeatedly.

Incessantly.

She also seems to like the sounds Rosalie makes when she rips out giant clumps of it. Rosalie claims she has enough bald patches on her head that, collectively, they could a land plane in them and that the amount of her hair that she has shoved in the glove compartment of her car could make enough sweaters to clothe a third-world country.

So then Annie was handed off to Carlisle. We didn't expect her to give him any trouble. He was Carlisle, for crying out loud! Nothing could faze him.

Carlisle lasted longer than Rosalie, but not much. An hour and a half later he called around, saying, "I'm sorry, but she's got—Annie, please open your mouth. That's expensive equipment and you shouldn't chew on it!—she's got a portable defibrillator in her mouth and she really will _not_ let go. I've never seen a vampire get electrocuted before, but I'm sure it wouldn't be pretty. Someone's going to need to take her before she shocks us both to death—ow! Annie, don't bite it! _Ochi_!"

"Ochi?" I mouthed at Edward.

"He's telling her 'no' in Greek," he explained. "Somehow, I don't think it's working."

Gee, I wonder what gave him that idea. Was it possibly the angry snarling coming through the phone? Or maybe the pained cries of "Don't bite!"?

And so it was Alice's turn. We figured that Alice, being as tolerant as she usually is (when she's not coordinating a wedding and/or fashion trip), could handle Annie no matter how rowdy she was. If anything, she could try to explain the difference between cashmere and alpaca to the kid. _That_ ought to bore Annie into submission.

She did that to me once. After five minutes, I'd lost all reason to live. After ten, I started looking around for something sharp with which to _end it all_.

So you'd think that Alice could handle it.

After ten minutes, Alice's Porsche swerved to a decidedly hazardous stop (one which involved her careening through three lanes of traffic to skid to a crooked halt at the edge of the road). Edward, who had been behind her at the time and had just barely missed removing her back fender when she stopped so unexpectedly, pulled up beside her—and started to laugh.

And he didn't stop laughing, even when Alice rolled down her window, lifted Annie through and dropped her into his lap.

She looked livid. Without saying a word, she flattened the gas pedal and drove off, ignoring the chorus of honks from other drivers.

I looked at Edward, wondering what could be so funny. Seeing my obvious confusion, he reached down and pried open Annie's little piranha mouth. I watched as a scrap of torn paper fell out.

It looked like…a piece of a map.

Oh.

Ha!

Ow! Hold on, Annie's chewing on my sweater.

**  
1:14pm**

I don't know what it is with that girl and chewing things! Five years old has got to be way past the teething stage, right?

Right?

Oh, I don't know. I don't know anything about children. I tried baby sitting only once in my life and by the end of that night I'd lost one child to sugar induced madness, had the other one pelting me with carrots from a wooden beam in his low-hanging basement ceiling, and the youngest got his head stuck in his shirt and kept walking into the door.

So, no, I do not consider myself a child-care guru.

I don't even like kids that much. They're adorable, of course (when they're not being obnoxious), but I'm only equipped to deal with people Renee's mental age…you know, somewhere between the ages of thirteen and, I don't know, _nine_.

Toddlers, I CAN NOT HANDLE.

In the past hour or so, I've proven this ten times over. But I haven't given up on _ever_ being good with kids, because, you see, I don't think that this counts. And do you want to know why?

Because this is not a child. This is a _demon_. A little minion of Lucifer, born of fire and brimstone and the souls of the damned.

I'm telling you, she is EVIL.

For 47 minutes, she has been doing nothing but chattering in gibberish (which Edward assures me is not any actual language; she's probably talking to the demonic voices in her head) jumping on things, screeching at random intervals, and chewing the seats of _my new car_.

Which actually might not be so bad…maybe Alice will take it back…? No, probably not. She'd probably just replace them with some more expensive material and have a half a million dollar engine put in just to spite me.

Anyway, it's been hectic in here. There's no point strapping the kid in—I tried that and she merely snapped the seatbelt in half and continued to demolish the inside of the car.

So I bet you're wondering why we haven't foisted her off on someone else. I'll tell you why: Edward is _good_ with children.

Even hell-spawned ones.

And he—

Oh God, not again.

**  
1:19pm**

"No, sweetie, please don't eat the nice ducky!"

_There's_ a sentence I never thought I'd say.

But where was I? Oh yeah. I was explaining how Edward is good with children. Well…he is.

It's just that simple.

Every time Annie crawls over the back of his seat, he simply reaches up and pulls her into his lap.

Unlike me. I'm usually unsuspecting when she crawls over the back of _my_ seat (she can be freakishly quiet sometimes) and I always end up turning my head, meeting her red eyes a half inch away from mine, and screaming like a ninny. It's all very sad.

But Edward doesn't scream. He just pats her hair and murmurs things to her in what he claims is Greek and she stares up at him like he's a god.

Can't say I disagree with her on that point.

Anyway, the familiar sound of the language seems to soothe her, even though she probably can't understand most of it, and she stays calm—until she decides to crawl back out of his lap and attack me. Or Paddy. She really seems determined to eat him. Luckily he's still asleep (or unconscious…or dead. I can't tell) so he's oblivious.

Just now Edward has scooped her up and is holding her in his lap again. I'm listening to him speak, and admiring the way the words roll off his tongue. It's like music, the way he speaks.

Hold on, Edward is saying something to me now.

**  
2:14pm**

"Do you want to learn?" was what he asked.

I frowned at him, not sure what he meant. "Learn…what?"

"Greek?" He gave me half a smile. "I could teach you a few words. Maybe then Annie wouldn't feel so inclined to chew your clothing."

I opened my mouth to decline (me and foreign languages really don't mix; even my tongue is clumsy), then closed it. It couldn't hurt, could it? It would certainly save me a lot of torturous trips to the mall to replace my demolished sweaters.

"Sure," I said, finally.

His smile grew. My heart started flopping around like a fish. Not literally, of course. But if I still had a heartbeat, I know it would have been. My heart never behaved when I wanted it to.

"Don't get too excited," I added. "I probably won't be able to pronounce any of it. I should warn you that my ninth grade French teacher called me a disgrace to all French-speakers everywhere. I'll butcher any language you try to teach me."

Edward laughed. "Well _that_ was French and _this_ is Greek. They're two very different languages. Besides, your ninth grade French teacher probably wasn't teaching it right. I'm sure you sound beautiful speaking a foreign language."

"Well, you would be wrong," I said insistently.

"Alright," Edward said, glancing down as Annie started playing with the fingers on the hand that had been stroking her mat of red hair. He smiled. "I look forward to proving you wrong."

I gave an unladylike snort that he ignored.

"We'll start with something simple," he began. "Say _pethi_."

I focused on how he pronounced it (peh-THEE), and repeated it. It wasn't hard at all. And it sounded right. It even, to my surprise, seemed to have the same musical trill to it that Edward's had.

Edward smiled, pleased. "See, I told you you could do it. That was perfect."

I smiled, happy that I'd done it right. "Wait. What does _pethi_ mean?"

"It means 'child'."

"Oh," I said. "Okay. Appropriate, I guess. What next?" I wiggled in my seat to face him.

He laughed again. "Oh, now you're interested?"

"Now that I know I can do it? You bet!"

He shook his head, smiling. "Alright. _Mou_ means 'my'. So if you add _mou_ to the end of _pethi_, it becomes—?"

"Um…_pethimou_?"

"Yes. Which means…?"

"'My child'?" I asked, amazed at how quickly I'd caught on.

"Exactly," Edward said. He reached over and brushed my cheek affectionately. "See, Bella. You're perfect."

Warmth settled in the pit of my stomach. Just when I start to think that maybe he's not a figment of my imagination he goes and says things like that and makes me wonder if I'm dreaming after all and soon I'll wake up and wonder what the hell I ate before I went to bed.

His lips moved, but I missed what he was saying, too lost in my thoughts to hear him. "What?" I asked.

"I said, 'Try _kalimera'_," he repeated.

I sounded it out in my head (ka-lee-MER-a) and repeated it perfectly. I squirmed with excitement and noticed that Annie was looking at me now, her eyes interested, but her hands still fiddling with Edward's fingers. I repeated the word and she smiled.

"It means 'good morning'," Edward informed me, as I said it again, feeling it roll flawlessly off my tongue. "Are you ready for the next one?"

I nodded happily and for the next hour he taught me words. I learned _kalinikta_ ('good night'), _parakalo_ ('please' or 'you're welcome'), _signomi_ ('excuse me' or 'sorry'), and lots more that I, shockingly enough, still remember.

Crazy, right?

And it was nice. That uncomfortable burning feeling…was nowhere.

It was just quiet, with Edward murmuring calming words at Annie in between teaching me pronunciations and meanings.

For the first time in days, there was finally peace.

It was just…nice.

And I began to think that, if this was what marriage to Edward would be like, I would sacrifice all the sleep and sanity I had to, just for a few more moments like this one.

Love's funny like that.

Finally, Edward eyed me. "One more," he said, "and then we need to hand her off to Jasper."

I'm sure I looked crestfallen, but I didn't argue. "Just when I was starting to like the little Gremlin, too," I sighed.

"Gremlin?" Edward asked.

I smiled. "Nevermind."

He rolled his eyes, something that oh-so-gentlemanly Edward hardly ever does. Of course, when he does do it, it only makes him look even more adorable. Go figure.

Up ahead, Jasper's motorcycle was slowing to a halt along the side of the road.

"Are you sure it's alright to put her on that thing?" I asked. "What if she jumps off and hurts herself?"

"I have a feeling that you could drop this little girl off the empire state building and she wouldn't feel a thing."

"Edward!"

"What?" he asked innocently. "I didn't say I was _going_ to."

I narrowed my eyes at him, but let the subject drop. "So," I asked. "What's the last word?"

This may sound strange or clichéd (or both) but I swear Edward's eyes twinkled—actually _twinkled_—as he murmured, "_S'agapo._"

Something about the way he said it made a strange chill run up my spine.

"_S'agapo_," I repeated, whispering for some unknown reason. This word, unlike the others, seemed to wrap around my tongue like a caress before rolling off. "_S'agapo_," I said again. "I like that one. What does it mean?"

Edward didn't answer. He had pulled up next to Jasper's bike and was saying his goodbyes to Annie. I smiled at her as she was handed out the window and settled onto Jasper's bike seat in front of him.

"Just don't get her wet, keep her out of bright light, and don't feed her after midnight," I instructed. Both Edward and Jasper looked at me as if I were crazy.

Apparently they have no appreciation for old Stephen Spielberg films.

Jasper shook his head. "Between you and this little puffball, I'm sure things are going to get…interesting." He smiled. "I'm looking forward to it."

Then he pulled his jacket up and wrapped it around Annie, tucking it underneath her so that only her little red head poked out.

"Somehow, I don't think the police would approve," Jasper explained. "Especially since she's not wearing a helmet."

As I watched Jasper pull away, I asked absently, "So…what does _s'agapo_ mean?"

There was a brief silence and I turned around to see what was wrong—and ended up nose to nose with Edward, who had leaned over in his seat. "_S'agapo_," he whispered, his eyes burning like molten gold, "means 'I love you'."

And then he kissed me.

**  
2:21pm**

God, I love that man.


	20. Hell House

Phew. I knew I could do it. Here's the next chapter. A few quick points to mention:

1. My hand is doing fine. It's kind of gross-looking now and I've got about four bandaids on it, but let me tell you putting sticky band-aids over dead skin is asking for serious pain, so I'm afraid to pull them off. And that's all I'll say about that since I highly doubt you need all the gory details.

2. I went back and made sure to clarify for those of you who were confused that Annie was only under Rosalie's care until Emmett got back from changing at the rest stop.

3. I only know a bit of conversational Greek, which I learned because my friend Sophie is Greek and I can never tell if she's saying hi to me or telling me to bite her. So I learned a little Greek just to make sure...

And finally, 4. Thanks for all the lovely reviews. I promise I'm not dragging out your torture on purpose. I've just got a lot of things to do (which is rare and so I don't quite know how to handle it). Right now I'm trying to organize my plot so if the story seems extra fluffy...well, who doesn't like fluff, right?

Enjoy.

* * *

**Monday  
****3:16am**

I've stopped writing day numbers. I figure I'll have to stop anyway since a year from now, if I'm still writing in this journal and haven't by any chance thrown myself into speeding traffic as a way of escaping the insanity of the Cullen household, the fact that it's day 375 is really not going to mean much to me.

Especially if Edward is as frustrating then as he is now.

He does have his moments though. I think I'll need to ask him to teach me a bit more Greek sometime soon…

**  
2:54am**

We've arrived in Alaska! It's honestly not very different from Canada. Maybe because we're only about five minutes past the border. I can't tell if it's cold or not, my body being the exact temperature of an ice cube, but I'm assuming it is from what I've heard of Alaska.

No Eskimo-sightings, though…

You'll also notice that we hit a time-change at the border and have set all of our clocks one hour behind. I feel like we're going back in time and when you've been on the road for as long as I have, that feeling is startlingly similar to clawing your way out of the bowels of Hell only to get dragged back down.

I think by that statement alone you can tell what a jolly good time I've been having on this trip so far. In fact, if Alice's Eurotrip involves any form of motor vehicle transportation, I'm going to dig a hole and bury myself.

The good news is that Paddy is not, in fact, dead. He's awake now, but considerably subdued after suffering such a traumatic head wound (I'm exaggerating, really; I had a look and, while I may not be a doctor, I'm pretty sure he'll make a full recovery). Edward seemed amused when I ventured the question if it would be possibly to turn an animal.

"I've never tried it myself," Edward said, a small smile curving his lips, "but I'm fairly sure that no animal would be able to withstand the venom long enough for a change. Their bodies couldn't handle the stress. It would be fatal."

Okay, so all future plans of turning Paddy into a vamp-duck are officially null and void.

We've got maybe two more hours to go before we reach the new house and once we arrive I'll be very happy if I never see the inside of another car again.

Esme called about an hour ago. Her student-teacher conferences went just fine, although she did say that she's a bit worried that none of the male students were really listening to her speak so much as staring, fixated, at her face. And other areas which she was too polite to mention.

She's really excited for us to see the house, saying that it's ten times as nice as the last. I've been trying to picture what something that magnificent would look like and all I've come up with is this: more stairs.

And that's something I can definitely do without.

But she insists that it's going to be spectacular and that she's got a surprise planned just for us.

Edward's guessing some form of giant trampoline in the living room. I'm leaning towards a sort of inner-atrium-type jungle, complete with exotic plants and big angry panthers for hunting.

Knowing Esme's tendency to get carried away, we won't be too far off.

As for our little Bébé's kid, Edward is apparently not the only miracle worker in the family. Whether because of the limited mischief-making room available on Jasper's motorcycle or Jasper's amazing toddler-handling abilities (or a little of both) Annie has been transformed into a sweet, frizzy-haired, mild-tempered ball of pink fluff.

Of course, I may be giving Jasper too much credit. It could just be that even demon children have their limits and all that screaming finally caught up to her.

The world may never know…

But we're close to home and that's what matters most. The first thing I'll do when we get there is collapse onto whichever bed has been designated for me and Edward and…er, well, do whatever it is vampires do in lieu of sleep.

**  
4:16am**

Still no sign of Eskimos and/or igloos. And there isn't as much snow as I thought there'd be.

Then again, it's the middle of July and it's hovering somewhere around 55 degrees. So maybe Alaska's not the harsh, artic place I thought it was, with penguins waddling around everywhere. I've yet to see a single penguin, in fact…which is actually kind of sad. I'm finding myself unnaturally drawn to large, wild birds.

Paddy quacks in the back seat, as if he can read my mind.

Smart bird.

**  
4:19am**

I've been informed that I won't be seeing any Eskimos, igloos, or even snow in this part of Alaska. Apparently the area around Juneau is only slightly colder than Seattle or Vancouver…or Forks.

Great. It's like I haven't moved at all.

**  
4:30am**

We're almost there. We've just passed through a small town, so small it's really just a handful of streets and small buildings thrown together with a blue, green, and white-painted "Welcome to Yuralria" sign in front.

Which, apparently means 'dancing one' in Eskimo-ese (actually, Edward called it Yup'ik, but who the hell knows what Yup'ik is?).

So the place sounds nice. Edward says our house is about a mile and a half out of town (i.e. Middla Nowhere, USA). But I'm not complaining, especially since we could have ended up a mile and a half outside the _last_ town we passed, which had been ever-so-charmingly christened Pukulria. Which in Yup'ik means 'bone chewer'.

Yeah, that doesn't sound at all like the kind of place where one might wake up to find their kidneys gone and their legs chewed off by cannibals. Why couldn't we live _there_?

Eskimo jokes aside, we've almost reached our destination, almost to whatever awe-inspiring edifice awaits in all its shining, gargantuan, stair-filled splendor. Just a few more minutes and I'll be relaxing in a warm tub full of hot water, reading a book, and preparing to go out for my very first hunt.

Just a few more minutes and we'll be home.

**  
5:39am**

I've died.

And gone.

To hell.

**  
7:28am**

Okay, whose idea was it to let Esme choose the house on her own? WHOSE?! Because whoever's it was is going to be ten different kinds of sorry when I get my hands on them.

**  
7:36am**

And I should have known something like this would happen. I should have seen it coming. I've gotten too complacent. Too used to things going right. I mean, besides the fact that I'm dead and now the proud owner of an undead husband, a car I don't want, two red eyes that scream "FEAR ME!", and a duck with questionable mental stability, my life's been pretty much normal in comparison to past events. I got too used to it and now _this_ has happened.

But we honestly thought Esme could handle it. She'd been finding the Cullen family perfect places to live (or so I'd heard) for years. We just trusted her when she said she'd picked out a perfect house. When she insisted that no one needed to trouble themselves coming with her to inspect it, that she'd do a great job on her own, we thought, _Okay, Esme, if you say so_.

We just went right along with it like—like _sheep_!

It's not that the house is bad, per se. It's not ugly, or cramped, or leaning to one side like the Tower of Pizza. As a matter of fact when we first arrived I couldn't do much but stare at its utter magnificence. It was big and beautiful and sparkling, with large windows everywhere to let in what sun there was. And it was secluded. There were trees bursting with leaves surrounding the entire area. Esme had turned most of the lights on inside and the warm glow flooding out through the windows lit up the darkness outside.

The inside was just as amazing, covered from top to bottom in mahogany and thick cream-colored carpets and really sparkly chandeliers that made me feel like a kid staring at a shiny new toy.

Yes, my mental maturity has been whittled down to zero.

Most of the sofas, chair cushions, and carpets in the living room, dining room, and hallways were a light cream color. Not white enough to blind you, but not beige enough to drop you into a boredom-induced coma. The carpets were impossibly soft, and my toes shouted their instant approval when I removed my shoes and stepped through the tall arch molded over our doorway and topped with a semi-circular window above the frame.

Everything else on the first floor—the tables, the picture frames, the hardwood floor in the downstairs hall—was mahogany. Dark, deep, shiny mahogany. Unfortunately, due to a certain lack of people living there, everything was covered in a fine layer of dust, which meant cleaning time for us boys and girls.

Besides that, though, it was perfect.

Or so I thought.

After we'd all hugged Esme hello, she'd given us a verbal run through of the place, not minding that my jaw was hanging open as I stared at the house behind her.

The entire house is about four floors. FOUR FLOORS. Albeit, the fourth floor is actually just an attic, but still, what do we need with four floors? Unless everyone is going to somehow spread all their crap around on each floor it's a ridiculous waste of space, so I don't see the point in having a four-floor house _and_ a basement, which may as well be a _fifth_ floor. At this point I could probably smuggle in the entire cast of Annie and re-enact the Broadway musical, and Esme and Carlisle wouldn't even notice.

I'm starting to think the Cullens are just getting tired of having so much money and have decided to spend it as fast as they can and see what happens.

Well, they have their answer. _This_ is what happens. A four-floor, ten bedroom, five-and-a-half bath, shimmering, glistening DEATH TRAP.

That's right. If I weren't already dead, this house would make me fear for my life. As it is, trying to live in the thing without falling through a hole where there should have been a stair or opening a cabinet built into my bathroom wall and ending up face-to-face with Alice in the other room because it has no _back_ is going to be the world's biggest hassle.

The house may look like the epitome of fine-structured opulence on the outside, but deep inside the walls lies something very sinister and probably off-center, just like everything _else_ in this house.

Edward says I'm being melodramatic, but after a thorough solo tour of the first two floors, I've come to the conclusion that no, I'm most definitely NOT being melodramatic.

Apparently, a family of builders lived here before us and built the house all on their own, with their own sweat, blood, tears, and collective IQ of 15. It's a contractor's _nightmare_. There are doors that open into nowhere, windows built into walls on the _inside_ of the house, and that crack about the missing stairs and built-in cabinet? Completely true.

Esme says that the small technical errors in the house's construction were just minor flaws, but after opening a door on the third floor only to find that it opened onto the _outside_ of the house—no walls, no floor, no _nothing_, save a lovely view of the backyard—for the second time, I've decided that it's more than that.

Edward doesn't see what the big deal is and Alice finds the building's little quirks amusing. She likes it that she can open a door ten feet above the stairs and wave down at Jasper as he carries books up to the attic. She thinks the big circular window between her room and the upstairs parlor (I'm not kidding, they actually have one of these) is great. And when she found out about the cabinet that connected our bathrooms she nearly had a laughing fit.

"Oh, come on, Bella, lighten up," she chided, resting her cheek on my shoulder. "This house has character. It's fun!"

Yeah, maybe for her. _She_ wasn't the world's biggest klutz. _She'd_ had time to get used to it—she'd _seen_ that it was going to be like this.

And she hadn't told me!

And neither had Edward.

"Bella, really," Edward admonished, taking my hands in his after I came flying down the stairs to tell him that our closet didn't even have a ceiling, and was just a big hole in Rosalie and Emmett's bedroom floor (their room being directly above ours). "So the house has a few…" He searched for the word as I looked on, unmoved "…peculiarities. So what? It's a beautiful house. And if you hadn't noticed, we have a beautiful room and a beautiful bed with a beautiful bathroom that, if I'm not mistaken, has an incredibly beautiful marble bathtub." He kissed my forehead. "You can finally have that bath you've been moaning on about for the past ten hours."

I had to admit, that—jabs at my apparent "moaning on" aside—a bath was a big plus.

Until I found out fifteen minutes later that my plans to spend an hour in a bathtub full of scalding water were not to be—because there _was_ no hot water.

"Oh, that should be fixed by next week," Esme said, looking apologetic. "I was really in the middle of fixing this place up. I didn't think we'd get here so early, so parts of it are still in the works. I'm sorry, dear."

I sighed inwardly, but gave her my best smile. "It's fine, Esme. Really."

And it was. Since when did I need a hot bath to get by? All of Edward's constant pampering was spoiling me.

And apparently, the "big surprise" Esme had for us was the great warm fuzzies of family bonding we'd get from helping her patch up this carnival house.

I can hardly contain my joy.

**  
7:47am**

Everyone's gone into super-speedy cleaning mode. Trying to unpack, clean the house, and avoid falling through any gaps in the floor is a new level of multi-tasking I've never reached prior to today.

Esme is heading the cleaning force and we've all been given our assignments.

It's time to get to work.

**  
7:56am**

They've put me in charge of the kid. ME. Why? Don't they know I can't handle babysitting? Don't I give off "known to drop children on their heads" vibes?

"She just needs someone to look after her," Carlisle insisted, pushing Annie into my arms. She stared up at me, uninterested.

I didn't blame her.

"But why _me_?" I asked in the same tone one might use to address some form of supreme being after losing their job, or house, or the use of their legs. I still wasn't too clear on that point. Picking me was like passing up six perfectly good toys at a toy store and going "Ah-ha! This looks nice!" when they see the one called Ball O' Jagged Glass.

As far as I know, this toy does not actually exist but I'm pretty sure, if I _were_ a toy, I'd have about the same potential to inflict permanent damage.

"She needs a sister figure," Carlisle elaborated.

I raised an eyebrow, wondering if he'd hit his head and forgotten about the other two people in the house who would fall under that category.

His eyebrow furrowed. "One that won't leave her unattended in a car—"

Rosalie shouted from the top of the stairs, "That was ONE TIME!"

"—or use her as a human Barbie doll."

"I'm fashion-oriented, not demented," Alice hissed from the dining room.

He sighed, raising his eyes to the ceiling as if asking for divine guidance. "I just want her to have someone a bit more like herself to look up to."

I raised my eyebrows in horror, gently pushing Annie's hand away when she reached for a lock of my hair, probably intent on using it like a tug-o-war rope. "Someone she could look up to? Do I look like Hannibal Lecter to you?" And then, because that had sounded a bit rude, I added, "I really just don't think I'm the right one for this—SON OF A—!"

Annie had gotten tired of me pushing her little fingers away and had sunk her tiny piranha teeth into my hand. It felt like I imagine getting your hand stuck in a woodchipper might feel.

Despite the pain, I remembered in the nick of time to turn my violent curse in something G-rated.

"—BATCH OF COOKIES!"

This touching moment of censoring brought to you by the FCC and Sesame Street.

Carlisle smiled. "See? You're perfect for the job."

I just rubbed my smarting hand and glared down at my little bundle of joy.

**  
8:06am**

Esme on a mission is an intimidating sight. She doesn't shout like Alice or throw blunt objects like Alice. She just moves. Fast. Even by vampire standards she's fast, zipping from room to room, making sure everyone's staying busy. And God help you if you're not. She makes us all feel as if we're not moving fast enough and so we go faster until we're all blurring past each other with boxes and cleaning supplies, moving like we've had a caffeine transfusion and couldn't slow down if the fate of the world depended on it.

Jasper and Emmett think the new house is charming too, though Jasper didn't exactly say "charming" and Emmett just chuckled every time he had to step over a spot where the floor wasn't quite level. And by not quite level, I mean the floor suddenly drops a foot. I feel like I'm living in an abstract painting.

But I have to admit that, now that I'm not constantly being beaten up by the house—falling out of doors and down stairs and such—I think it's pretty…interesting too.

_Not_ fun.

_Not_ charming.

Just…interesting.

I can handle this. After everything I've been through, I'm not going to be thrown by a mismatched house.

**  
8:15am**

I hauled Paddy in from the car and let him out on the first floor, warning him to watch out for missing stairs.

He gave me a quack and toddled off to explore the new house.

**  
8:36am**

I'm sitting on the couch, digging through a box of what appears to be useless junk, looking for Esme's dust buster. Annie seems happy, sitting on the sofa behind me, chewing on one of the many new shoes Alice has forced on me.

It has to be in here somewhere. I've checked every other box labeled "cleaning supplies" (and you'd be amazed at how many there actually were) and this is the only one left.

It has to be in—

**  
8:38am**

Still digging through the box. Still haven't found the dust buster.

One big difference: I'm hovering eight feet in the air.

Emmett's lifted the couch up for Esme to vacuum under. With me still on it. And was he nice enough to _ask_ me before heaving me above his head?

No.

Annie is leaning over the side of the couch, peering down at Emmett with what I think _she_ thinks is a smile, but looks more like the face a rabid dog might make before it proceeds to gnaw off your face.

Yeah. Real cute.

**  
8:46am**

Ah-ha! Found the dust buster!

**  
8:47am**

Now all I have to do is find Esme…

**  
9:34am**

I passed by Edward on the second floor, on his way back downstairs to get more boxes. He smiled when he saw me, running a hand over his disheveled hair and I don't know what happened. Something inside me just sort of snapped. I think I was possessed for a minute.

The next thing I knew I'd grabbed his arm and was manhandling him into a nearby linen closet. It's a good thing these places are so roomy.

Men sure are nifty little toys.

**  
9:39am**

Oh! I still have Esme's vacuum!

I'd better go find her. Somewhere in this house, there's some dust that needs busting…

**  
9:46am**

Edward and I reappeared downstairs. Emmett took one look at Edward and nearly dropped the coffee table he had hoisted over his head.

Esme shut off the vacuum and looked Edward over with mild surprise.

I glanced over at him myself and realized that he looked like he'd been hit by a truck. His shirt was buttoned all wrong, his already flyaway hair was all over the place and…when did I rip his shirt?

And the goofy grin plastered all over his face was like a big toothy billboard shouting at Esme "WE HAD SEX IN YOUR CLOSET."

Esme just shook her head and reached for the dust buster, saying, "I just hope you two stayed off my good towels."

I practically went up in flames. HOW DID SHE KNOW?

She rolled her eyes, as if reading my mind. "People still _use_ that hallway, you know."

If I ever do get an ability, it'll probably be the power to incinerate myself on the spot.

**  
9:49am**

Edward and I have been banished to separate ends of the house in case we get anymore ideas about traumatizing more of Esme's bath towels. Which is how _he_ ended up in the basement, clearing cobwebs or moving around coffins or whatever it was vampires did in their basements, and _I_ ended up in the third floor parlor, lying on my stomach half-wedged under a sofa, trying to battle my way through an army of dust bunnies who have no intention of surrendering.

**  
9:58am**

Alice looked up from the dark marble counter top she'd been power-scrubbing as I stormed into the kitchen. Her eyebrows popped up as she took in my disheveled appearance. "Do I want to know?"

I flopped down in one of the stools surrounding the marble-topped island in the center of the kitchen. "Let's just say there's one very mean dust bunny under the couch on the third floor that's got one hell of a left hook. In fact, I'm thinking we should just leave it be and maybe toss some dead squirrels under there every once in a while to keep it fed and happy."

Alice laughed, hopping up onto the stool across from me and resting her chin in her hands. "It'll be clean soon," she assured me, "and then you'll be able to relax."

"Relax?" I asked, completely incredulous. "How can I relax in this house when any moment I could end up opening a door and falling out into the yard?"

Alice rolled her eyes. "It's not that bad. Everyone else loves it." She frowned. "Well, except Rosalie, but I think that's just because she had to rearrange everything in her room so that the bed would be covering that hole in the floor. She had a whole plan for the layout which is now blown all to heck." She waved her hand dismissively. "But Esme will fix it. Just wait. This house is going to be perfect."

**  
10:16am**

I just sent off an e-mail to Renee describing the new house in all its shining, deranged glory.

Ten bucks says she sends back a reply gushing over how positively _amazing_ it sounds and how she's going to get one just like it when she and Phil find a new place.

My mom seems to have an unfathomable love for all things peculiar. I'll avoid making any wisecracks about eccentric people loving eccentric things…

**  
10:21am**

What _is_ that noise?

It sounds like Jasper shouting.

Wow. He's certainly not bothering to restrict his vocabulary to toddler-approved—OH MY GOD, WHERE IS ANNIE?

**  
10:27am**

All that loud noise really _was_ Jasper shouting. Apparently his affection for the house and all its bass-ackward "charm" vanished pretty quickly when he found out there was a leak in the attic roof that was quickly soaking through a pile of his favorite books.

Now his descriptions of this house are limited to a few choice four letter expletives.

But I have slightly bigger problems. You know, demon dust bunnies and the fact that I LOST A KID.

**  
10:39am**

And, come to think of it, where's Paddy?

**  
10:41am**

Oh, god. I've lost the duck too.

Well, isn't that just spit-in-your-eye fantastic?

**  
10:56am**

I retraced my steps and realized that, between the time I found Esme's dust buster and my molestation of Edward she'd just—poof!—disappeared. And that was what? Two hours ago?

I think I've reached an amazing new level of negligence. I should be studied.

"YOU LOST HER?!" Rosalie asked—shrieked, actually—when she discovered that both Paddy and Annie were M.I.A. I wasn't all that surprised that she didn't seem to give half a damn about poor Paddy. People were just inconsiderate sometimes.

"How could you _lose_ her?" she continued to shout, waving her bottle of Windex around like it was a weapon. "She's a _child_, not your car keys!"

"I know that!" I snapped, regretting that I'd come to Rosalie with my news first. Actually, I'd sort of screamed it and she'd just been the only one around to hear. "I _told_ Carlisle it was a bad idea to give her to me. I _told_ him I don't know how to handle kids. But did he listen? Oh, no. No one ever listens to Bella. No one ever stops to think, _Hey, maybe this girl who constantly trips over her own feet and runs into trees isn't the best person to leave my child alone with_." I was pacing and ranting now, completely flustered. "I—"

At this point Emmett and Esme had heard my screeching and were standing there with patient looks on their faces, but Emmett's expression growing more and more amused by the second.

Before I could get good and worked up, Esme interrupted, turning to Emmett and commanding, "Go downstairs and find Edward and Alice, and tell them to stop whatever they're doing and help you look. Ask Alice if she's seen anything and tell Edward to see if he can search out her thoughts. Rosalie, Carlisle and Jasper should be upstairs. They'll need to know as well. We'll search every room, top to bottom. I'm sure she's still in the house," she muttered to herself, nibbling on a fingernail. "She just has to be." She turned to me and patted my cheek reassuringly. "Don't worry, Bella. It was a long, _long_ time ago, but I was a child once myself. You just have to think like her and figuring out where she went will be easy."

I avoided making mention of how much easier this would be if the house weren't four stories high. I sense that now isn't really the time.

My oh-so-remarkable deductive skills at work.

**  
10:58am**

If I were a five-year-old antichrist in a four-story, constructionally challenged building, where would I hide?

**  
10:59am**

Let's see. What does she like?

Screaming.

Chewing things.

Rosalie's hair.

Greek.

Jasper.

Emmett.

Edward.

Basically, everything but me.

Well. That certainly narrows it down.

**  
11:04am**

Now what does Paddy like?

Me (what a nice change).

Carrots.

Soap.

My underwear.

Causing mayhem.

Eating inedible things.

Being irritating and adorable at the same time.

All I need to do is find a room with carrots, soap, underwear, and mayhem all in the same place.

I have no idea where to even start.

**  
11:16am**

I ran into Edward on the second floor while I was checking one of the many nameless mini-living rooms around the house for signs of Annie or Paddy. I figure either of them would leave large trails of destruction in their wake, but I haven't found anything out of the ordinary yet.

I had just thrown myself down on one of three couches grouped around a fireplace and a dark mahogany coffee table that had been polished to within an inch of its life, when Edward came loping in.

He took one look at my pathetic form, sprawled sadly across the couch cushions, and knelt down on the floor beside my throne of doom and gloom and rubbed my back soothingly.

"Leave it," I moaned miserably, batting his hand away when he tried to part the thick mass of hair covering my face. "Let me hide my face in _shame_."

I couldn't see him, but I could practically sense him rolling his eyes. "You're being melodramatic again," he sighed.

"Am not," I mumbled, reaching deep down into my arsenal of second-grade comebacks.

"Are too," he teased and I could feel his smile all the way down to my toes. Which was funny, because I still couldn't see him to tell if he was really smiling or not. I just knew, somehow, that he was and it made me all toasty inside.

"Go away," I muttered when I realized this. "You're making me feel better and I can't feel better until I've found Annie and born my disgrace for a suitable period of time."

"It wasn't your fault," Edward insisted.

I raised my head and glared at him from between the strands of my hair. "Not my fault? So you're saying I _didn't_ lose track of the girl I was supposed to be taking care of? You're saying that it's perfectly normal not to have any recollection whatsoever of when or where I might have lost her? You're telling me that the fact that I apparently just dropped her somewhere and forgot to pick her back up and didn't even notice she was gone for TWO HOURS is just your everyday, run-of-the-mill babysitter behavior?" My eyes narrowed to tiny slits, though my glare had zero force behind it because, well, Edward was just too cute to hate.

He smiled gently, pushing my hair out of my face despite my protests. "No. I'm simply saying that if that little girl wanted to get away from you, there isn't much you could have done to stop her."

"I could have at least _noticed_."

He shrugged, his fingers finding their way beneath my shirt and tracing intricate patterns up and down my spine. "True. But all that would have done was prevent what turned out to be a very pleasant interlude with my lovely wife."

I smiled, savoring the memory, and glanced over at him, folding my arms in front of me and resting my chin on them. I reached out and fingered the shoulder of the plain white collared shirt he'd changed into. "Sorry about your other one. I got carried away, I guess."

He grinned. "Feel free to get carried away again, anytime you'd like. Preferably sometime soon."

I rolled my eyes at him, then sighed tiredly. "I guess we'd better get back to looking. I hope she's still in the house." Then my head shot up. "Wait! Did you check for her thoughts?"

Edward nodded. "They aren't mature enough. She's not really thinking any solid thoughts, just moving from one moment to the next based on her emotions. That's why Alice can't see her either. She's not making any conscious decisions. I caught wind of her once, but it was just a fragmented idea and it was gone before I could pinpoint her location. But at least we know she's still in the house."

"Or she was, anyway," I grumbled. "With my luck she's broken out and is halfway to Vancouver by now."

Edward's arm snaked around my waist, tugging me off the couch and into his lap where I promptly buried my face in his neck and inhaled like a drug addict getting a fix.

Wow. That sure wasn't a healthy analogy. Not like anyone can blame me. If you could bottle Edward's essence, there'd be women all over the world selling their shoes to feed their Edward addiction.

"You're being too negative," Edward murmured into my hair. "You won't find anyone with that attitude."

"Thanks, _Oprah_," I grunted sarcastically. Then, just because I felt like it, I bit his neck and raked my nails up his back.

"Okay," Edward said in a strangled voice. "I think it's time for us to get back to work." He peered down at me with a crooked grin. "But hold that thought and we'll get back to it later."

I smiled. "You're so easy."


	21. Crazy Day

I already know that this one took over a month, which is way longer than I expected. I've made it up to you by making this the longest one yet. You can all put down your pitchforks and other assorted farming equipment and enjoy.

By the way, for those who asked, I got the idea for Hell House from my Great Uncle's house in Jamaica. I honestly did almost fall out of a door on the second floor of the house. The only thing I didn't mention was his psychotic guard dog, Sheba, who I've had nightmares about ever since.

And a special thanks to **Zodiacgirl14**, who sent me endless messages and pretty much guilted me into hurrying this one up.

Oh, and if you don't know what a "bleeding heart" is, there's a joke in here that you won't get. That's what dictionaries are for.

(P.S. To all of you who want me to beta read for you...I really have no idea how you're supposed to send your work to me, but when you figure it out, send it on over, with a brief explanation of who you are and what you want me to do.)

* * *

**11:18am**

I wonder how devastated the rest of the family would be if we just left her to her own devices…

I'm sure she'd come back when she got hungry.

Either that or she'd massacre the nearby village.

I'm imagining the carnage now. She'd blow through that town with all the destructive force of an army tank.

Well, hell. I guess I'll have to keep looking for her after all.

Besides, I don't know about anyone else, but _I'd_ sure miss my duck if he were gone. Hopefully I'll find him before he swallows anything lethal.

And Annie…well, I'm not so sure I'd miss her, but if anyone asks, I'll deny I said that…

**  
11:19am**

I'd better get down to business. This shouldn't take long at all.

How hard can finding one little girl be?

**  
11:41am**

The little demon planned this, I swear she did. Her scent is _everywhere_, all over the house. We've been following it around in circles for an hour and finding everything _but_ her. I'm starting to worry about Paddy. What if she got hungry? What if she _gets_ hungry?

Emmett made the mistake of insisting Paddy was already lunch, and I may have let my anxiety get the better of me.

Just a little.

But he deserved it. And besides, I highly doubt all that screaming on his part was necessary. It's not like he was going to be reproducing any time soon anyway, so that kick couldn't have done all that much damage…

Alice has volunteered me to go out with her to look around the woods and town.

Anyone else here confused about why they'd send the newbie who lost the kid in the first place out to hunt her down?

Maybe I'm just destined to be out of the loop for the rest of eternity.

Okay, this is not what I signed up for.

**  
12:45pm**

She's nowhere. NOWHERE. I've lost her! I've killed her!

"I'm a horrible person!" I cried, throwing myself onto my bed after an hour of fruitless searching and burying my head under my pillows. The pillows were actually the only things on the bad, since we hadn't unpacked all the bed linens yet. It just shows how distraught I was that I didn't even notice how heavenly soft they were.

"She's probably fallen through a frozen lake and drowned or drifted off on an ice float or been eaten my a leopard seal or—"

"We're in southern Alaska, not Antarctica," Alice interrupted, sounding unfazed. She sat down next to me on the bed, crossing her legs neatly beneath her. "Bella."

I scratched my neck and refused to look up at her. She sighed. "Bella, she hasn't fallen down a ravine or gotten eaten by a penguin or any of the other ridiculous scenarios you've been torturing yourself with. First of all, no penguin in its right mind would eat her, even if there were penguins anywhere around here, which there aren't. And second, she's _dead_. I think that pretty much covers all the other bases, don't you?"

I peeked up at her with one eye and glared. "Why can't you just let me be miserable?" I asked, my voice muffled by the thick, soft mattress that had been bought specially for me, even though I didn't exactly need one anymore. The entire room had been done in deep reds with lots of mahogany, comfy chairs with tons of pillows, a fire place over on one wall, and soft lighting. With the curtains drawn against the bright sunlight, as they were now, it seemed even more comfy. The whole place was very spacious, but still very…cozy.

I didn't deserve cozy.

I deserved a cell, with barred windows, cement floors, and a funny smell that I'd never be able to pinpoint the location of.

"Because," Alice answered, leaning back on her elbows, "Miserable Bella is no fun and all this doom and gloom is making me queasy." She dropped her head to the side to look at me. "We'll find her, okay? And if we're lucky, we'll even be able to do it before she gets hungry and decides to head down to Pukulria and make good on their name."

I moaned again, and slammed my pillow back over my head.

**  
12:56pm**

Good. Alice has finally given up and left.

I'm free to wallow in my guilt and self-pity in peace.

**  
1:23pm**

She didn't give up. She sent in Edward.

The girl fights dirty.

"This is the third time today that I've had to stop your dramatics," Edward murmured conversationally, lying on the bed beside me. I peeked out from under the pillow and saw him stretched out on his back, staring at the ceiling, his hair fanning out into a reddish-gold halo around his head. "And the second time I've had to do it through your hair." He sighed, playing with a lock that was spilling out from under the pillow. "I should get paid for this."

I sat up suddenly, the pillow falling onto the floor with a soft '_whump._' I ran a hand over my face and through my hair, realizing how I must look to him. "I'm sorry. God, you're right. I've been acting so bipolar lately, haven't I?"

Edward was polite enough not to say anything. But then, he didn't have to.

I sighed, scratching an itch on my neck. "I guess I just feel like nothing's changed."

Edward's eyebrows rose in surprise. He held up his hand and started ticking things off on his fingers. "We got married. We moved to Alaska. We own a duck and a five-year-old undead Child of the Corn. And you're dead." He nodded. "You're right. Nothing's changed at all. How dull."

I glared. "Have you ever been kicked in the kidneys? I'm told it's quite painful."

He smiled lazily. "I apologize. Please continue."

When I was sure he wasn't going to be making anymore smart remarks, I said, "I don't mean that nothing in our _lives_ has changed. That's a given. _Everything's_ changed." I glanced at him, where he was lying on his side, leaning on one elbow with his head resting on his hand and a half smile on his lips. I felt some odd stirrings that meant the bits of my body that had gone to sleep after my fun little romp in the closet earlier were waking up and getting themselves some coffee to see if they couldn't work up some energy for a bit more, er…_fun_.

"Okay," I said, smiling like a moron. "Maybe not _everything_ has changed."

Edward's eyes sparked with interest but I shook my head and scooted back on the bed to make sure he didn't distract me. The moments when I actually knew what was going on in my own head were rare, and I wanted to get this all out while I was still thinking lucidly.

"I just feel like, even though I'm actually part of the family now..." I frowned, trying to find a way to phrase it properly. "I'm just so…the same. I don't feel different at all. Besides the fact that I can't feel cold, I constantly get side-tracked by things like carpet, and at least seven doorknobs in this house are permanently molded into the shape of my palm because of that whole extreme strength issue, what's changed? Nothing. Did you know I even tripped over that stupid, stupid, evil coffee table again this morning? I can't believe you brought that thing with you! I thought I'd seen the last of it, but no! It's followed me, and it sits down there in the living room plotting evil plots and finding new ways to trip me up when I'm having a good day! I swear, I can hear it laughing at me every time I—!"

"Bella," Edward said slowly. "Are you listening to yourself?"

I stopped in the middle of my tirade. "Oh. Right. I had a point, didn't I?" It took me a moment to remember what it was I'd been talking about. "Right. Change. Um…." I sighed. "Forget it. I can't remember what I was upset about." I dropped back on the bed, exhausted.

From the corner of my eye I could see Edward contemplating me, his eyes thoughtful. After a few minutes, he sat up and pushed himself off the bed. He held out his hand, pale palm looking even paler in the gray light leaking in from the tall windows on the other side of the room. "Come with me."

When I reached out to put my hand in his I was surprised at how well they matched. Like identical Greek statues, cut in pale stone.

How strange.

I shook that random bit of deliberation off and followed him into the bathroom. The light from the bedroom barely reached inside the small space, but what little did bounced off the shining surfaces and lit the area with a dim glow. Before I knew what he was doing, he'd turned me around to face the mirror.

I looked different. The same, but…different. My thoughts of Greek statues came back and I realized that, when I held this still, I looked just like one, frozen in time, carved into an eternal pose that I could never alter. I lifted my arm to my head, partly because I needed to verify that those shiny wisps of dark hair were actually mine, and also to make sure I still could. I brushed my hand through it and then rubbed away an itch beneath my ear. My skin felt just as different as it looked.

So here was the change I'd been looking for. It had always been here, right on the other side of the mirror. It was satisfying somehow, seeing it there: undeniable proof that I _was_ changed.

"You've changed a lot, Bella," Edward said, quietly, staring over my shoulder at my reflection. "You just couldn't see it."

My eyebrows knit together as I examined his face next to mine. "Something here doesn't match," I remarked, comparing our expressions. "You see, my face is shouting 'My life is forever altered for the better' while yours clearly says 'My pet cat just got run over by a bike'. What's the problem here?"

He smiled sadly. "I've already told you that sometimes I miss the parts of you that are gone now. You're not so…familiar anymore." Seeing that my face was fast changing from 'ecstatic' to 'crestfallen' he hastened to add, "I'm not saying that I don't like this new you! I do. All of those traits I saw in you before are emphasized, and I love that. But try and imagine if I were to change all of a sudden. How would you feel about it?"

I thought about that. "Well, if by changed you mean you somehow managed to get more attractive, I'd probably feel dead. We've talked about this before, I think."

Edward rolled his eyes. But as I thought about what he'd said I realized that I wouldn't be half as accepting as Edward. If his face changed _at all_, I wouldn't like it. Period.

It was _his_ face. Even if it weren't so stunningly beautiful, I wouldn't want it to change. It was something you took for granted, that the person you loved would always be attached to the same face, so you grew to love that part too. Having it suddenly alter would be like having a stranger where my Edward used to be, and the thought _did not_ make me happy, let me tell you.

"Oh," I said in a small voice, suddenly finding the bathroom floor tiles fascinating.

Behind me, Edward sighed. "I've upset you. That wasn't what I was trying to—" He sighed again. "I'm not saying that I can't or don't love the way you look. It's just…I'm a vampire, Bella. Things don't change very often for us. I'm not really adept at dealing with changes this big." He pressed against my back and buried his face in the space between my neck and my shoulder. "I'll get used to it, I promise."

Alright, so I'd had about enough of this sad, serious business. I wasn't blaming him for not instantly loving this new face of mine. I mean, I've had it all my life, and now that it's changed, well, even I kind of miss it. And _I'm_ not the one constantly gazing at it in adoration.

"So," I said thoughtfully, "it would be like your beloved pet cat of ten years suddenly getting a big white spot on its back where there used to be none, right?"

Edward looked up, horrified. "Your face is not a _cat_, Bella."

"I'm just trying to understand," I said, enjoying his appalled expression. I thought some more. "If that doesn't work, then…maybe it's like your couch suddenly going from ugly vomit green vinyl to black leather. Or your shoes becoming high heels instead of plain old flats."

Edward's eyes suddenly gleamed with comprehension. He smiled. "Flats are nice shoes. I've seen you in them and they look very nice on your feet—"

I snorted. "You think my hangnails are pretty."

He ignored me. "—and you don't look like you're going to collapse and take down the person next to you when you're in flats." He nipped at my ear. "I have nothing good to say about ugly green vinyl couches, but trust me, you were never one of those."

I smiled. "This is a very strange conversation, and I should probably feel at least a little ashamed that I was so obviously fishing for compliments…but, I don't." I turned around and flung my arms around his neck. "Alright, Casanova, let's go find our little menace."

**  
1:50pm**

She was in a far corner of the basement.

Behind some unpacked boxes.

Playing with Esme's kitchen knives.

And humming to herself.

It was like something out of a horror movie.

I'm amazed she didn't make her head spin around or vomit split pea soup.

**  
1:51pm**

Maybe this is how Lizzie Borden started out. Sweet and innocent with a strange affinity for sharp objects.

**  
1:56pm**

Turns out Paddy has taken a shine to her, though. He was plopped down next to her, watching the flash of knives in fascination, completely unaware that those knives were probably going to wind up separating his tiny ducky head from his tiny ducky body if he didn't make like a rug and beat it.

"I don't think I have the fortitude for this," Rosalie mumbled, watching from the doorway as Jasper and Emmett tried to creep up and pry the knives out of Annie's hands.

"Hey, you're the one who wanted the kid," I said, scraping vigorously at the right side of my neck, which itched like crazy. "You just forgot to specify whether or not you wanted one that wasn't possessed by demonic forces." I shrugged. "It's an easy mistake to make."

Rosalie did not look amused.

"Why do we even have knives in the house?" I asked. "No one's doing any cooking."

"We have to keep up appearances," Alice said. "You never know when a friendly neighbor might drop by."

"Right," I said. "Some friendly neighbor, who just happened to be snow-shoeing past out in the middle of nowhere, might come in, notice we have no kitchen knives and immediately know that the house contains nine vampires and a duck. I see the problem."

I really don't think it was necessary for Alice to elbow me as hard as she did.

**  
2:17pm**

The knives are safely back in their boxes and Annie's in the living room with Emmett, Rosalie, Paddy, and Alice, watching a movie to keep her preoccupied.

I was headed up the basement steps after them when Jasper stopped me.

I blinked at him. "What's—?"

"How long have you been scratching like that?" His eyes fell to my hand where it was digging at another itch around my neck.

I hadn't even realized I was doing it. "I don't know." I shrugged. "A few hours. Can vampires be allergic to things? Because I think I might be."

Edward, standing beside me on the steps, pushed my hand away and bent down to examine my neck at the same time Jasper did.

"Well, this isn't uncomfortable at all," I said, trying to lean away from them. "Hey, do you two mind?" I scratched my neck again, but before I could really kill the itch, Edward had picked up my hand and flipped it over.

"Look at her fingernails," he murmured to Jasper.

Jasper leaned in to do just that, then nodded. "We should take her out now, before it gets worse."

"What are you two talking about?" I asked, yanking my hand away and holding it to my chest in case they tried to take it back. I lifted it and examined my fingernails too. "What's that?" I asked, spotting clumps of white dust clinging to the underside of my nails. It looked like chalk.

"Skin," said Edward. "So my guess is that you've been scratching for _more_ than a few hours if you've managed to dig up epidermis that's practically welded to your flesh."

"Oh. Ew," I said, eyeing the dust in a new light. "That's disturbing."

"You're not allergic to anything," said Jasper. "You're hungry. Your throat is dry, so it's itching, and you should be able to feel it in your stomach."

I looked down at my midsection. "I don't feel anything down there. It's just my neck that hurts."

"It won't feel like normal hunger," said Jasper. "It'll feel more like a burning."

I coughed, embarrassed. "I'm feeling that," I mumbled, glancing at Edward. "I just didn't think it was bloodlust, so much as…"

I didn't bother to finish, but Jasper's eye-rolling and Edward's sudden stupid grin made me figure that they got it anyway.

"No," Jasper said, "Edward's supposed sexual prowess has nothing to do with this." He looked disgusted by the very thought. He slipped a hand around my upper arm while Edward grabbed the other and together they hoisted me up the stairs.

Was it necessary? Probably not.

Was it annoying? Immensely.

Did they care? Not a whit.

"Where are we going?" I asked. "And would you put me down? My legs work just fine."

"We're taking you out to hunt," Jasper said, dropping my arm as we reached the landing. He was opening his mouth to say something else when Alice appeared beside him, looking eager.

"No," he said, without looking at her.

"Oh, and I suppose you're going to stop me from going?" she chuckled, putting her hands on her hips.

He looked like the thought had never even crossed his mind. I'm sure he's learned by now not to stand between his wife and what she wants if he likes the way his body parts are arranged. He sighed. "It's her first time. I don't want her to feel crowded."

Alice rolled her eyes. "Sorry, I didn't realize I took up so much space. Maybe if I were _shorter_."

"I don't mind," I hurried to interrupt, before this little spat got any worse. "I'd like having Alice there, actually. Just consider her my life raft, keeping me afloat in a sea of testosterone."

Edward and Jasper both considered me for a moment, and then nodded in unison.

So, we're off for my first hunt. I don't know what we'll be hunting, but Jasper assures me that it won't be penguin.

Or leopard seal.

**  
5:46pm**

I've discovered something amazing today:

Hunting is awful. God-awful. Just plain terrible and I've come to the conclusion that I'm never doing it again. I don't care if I go into blood lust, or a coma, or start vacuuming obsessively. NEVER AGAIN.

It started out well enough. We ran into the woods for a few miles and I didn't hit any trees.

Alright, I didn't hit _many_ trees.

Now, I won't go into too much detail about the next few hours, because I'd really rather not relive the memory, but it turns out that deer are not as stupid as they look.

And, unfortunately for me, they're darned cute too.

"I can't do it," I whispered to Edward as we watched the doe through a small line of trees. "I can't. It never did anything to me and now I'm just going to run up and kill it?"

"You eat meat all the time, Bella," Alice reminded me. "Where do you think it comes from? What, you think all the animals that die deserve it? Every time you eat a sandwich, do you think, 'I'd feel bad if this jackass turkey hadn't tried to steal my credit card'?"

"Oh, that's the ultimate crime to you, isn't it?" I asked bitingly.

She narrowed her eyes at me. "You try going seventy years without something to live for and see how you turn out. Everyone needs something." She sniffed stubbornly. "I have shopping."

Jasper looked amused. "It was such an innocent sentence, and yet I suddenly feel like her next door neighbor instead of her chosen mate for LIFE."

Alice sidled up to him and leaned against his shoulder. "You know what I meant."

At which point Edward asked if he was going to have to separate them and, after assuring him that wouldn't be necessary, we got back to the business at hand.

It wasn't long before my mind began to associate the deer with the itch in my throat and I reverted back to my baser instincts which told me one thing: kill the deer and the horrible burning and itching will go away.

It was simple. I found my legs moving on their own, almost disconnected from the part of my mind that was focused solely on the deer and its slow, steady heart beat. The warm pulse of blood in its veins. The flexing of its freckled brown flesh over muscle and bone whenever it shifted its position. Every muscle was taut and ready, and I was feeling as if I were balanced on the edge of a high precipice, poised at the line between balance and the pull of gravity. And then the prey sensed me somehow and took off.

Something inside me snapped.

I think I blacked out or had some kind of episode—you know, the kind Alice has when she sees a really nice sweater from across a crowded department store—because when I came back to consciousness, I was sitting on the ground beside one very dead deer carcass, with a soothed stomach, a deep contentment where the itch in my throat had been, and a sweet tangy flavor lingering on my tongue.

I blinked up into three astonished gazes.

"Well, I'll be damned," Jasper murmured. "She's normal after all."

And that's when I started to cry.

**  
5:52pm**

I'm not kidding. CRYING. I bawled like a four-year-old who'd just had her lollipop stolen.

Jasper shook his head and muttered something about it having been a "false alarm."

I'm assuming he was referring to my brief bout of vampire normalcy. I wasn't too disappointed. I've grown used to being defective.

Alice rolled her eyes. "Oh, God. Stay there and let me get you some napkins."

I frowned at her between hiccupy breaths. "I don't have tears, Alice. What am I going to do with napkins?" An unnecessary reminder that I probably looked even stupider, crying tearlessly in the middle of the forest, but at least I didn't have that uncontrollable snot problem you get when you cry too hard, which would have looked oh-so-alluring, I'm sure.

I'll add that to my list of pluses.

"They're not for your tears," she tossed over her shoulder. "They're for your heart. It's bleeding all over my shoes."

Which is apparently supposed to be a highly amusing wuss joke. Greatly appreciated, Alice, thank you.

It was awfully embarrassing. I can't even think about it without wanting to crawl under the bed and never come back out.

Unfortunately, there's a big bitchy dust bunny under the bed too, and unlike the one on the third floor, this one might just be packing heat.

I may have to borrow Esme's dust buster.

Anyway, the gist: Hunting bad. Never again. Death by mortification.

The end.

**  
6:34pm**

I don't know how I got suckered into this, but somehow Alice managed to convince me that movie-watching would make me feels loads better.

So far, it hasn't, mostly because, _so far_ all we've _done_ is make an attempt at deciding what to watch. That only took five minutes, actually. But trying to convince Alice that there was no way in hell that I was going to watch Titanic for the hundredth time was taking ages.

"You have seen this movie _sixty-two_ times," I said, each syllable slow and deliberate. I was sitting cross-legged on the plush carpet in the TV room, watching Edward press buttons on a DVD system so high-tech it looked like the motherboard of a spaceship. "How much could you have missed? Two people get on a big boat, they fall in love, have sex in someone else's car, the boat hits a big icy rock, and everyone DIES."

"And then you start crying," Jasper chimed in from the sofa.

"And cursing all men, everywhere," Edward said, fiddling with buttons on the DVD player. "Like somehow it's _our _fault."

"And then you throw the movie at Jasper's head," Emmett added, wandering by with a box in his hands.

"And I don't get to talk to my wife for a week," Jasper finished. "We are NOT watching Titanic. Edward, burn it." He grabbed the case and tossed it to Edward, who caught flawlessly.

Without looking up from what he was doing.

Show-offy jerk.

Alice jumped up. "No! Edward, give it back!" she demanded in her best, "not to be reckoned with" voice.

Edward didn't. Instead, he tossed it to Emmett, who had abandoned his box on an end table by the door to watch the madness. He laughed raucously and tossed it back to Jasper, who didn't look like he wanted to participate but also refused to put this particular grenade back in Alice's hands. Shaking his head, he tossed it back to Edward, with Alice flitting from person to person, the case just brushing her fingertips before it was pulled out of her grasp and flung to someone else.

I felt like I was back in the third grade.

I was learning new things about the Cullens every day, it seemed, including a few things I'd never wanted to know, like that, after showering, Jasper often goes long periods without wearing anything but socks, when in the privacy of his own bedroom, a nifty fact I stumbled across when I made the mistake of barging in to ask Alice a question without my usual lumbering, human footsteps to warn of my approach.

Needless to say, we were both pretty darned surprised to see each other.

Permanent psychological scarring ensued.

Anyway, Edward, Emmett, and a reluctant Jasper were busy playing keep-away while Alice grew increasingly steamed, and I was watching with absent amusement, when all of a sudden something came hurtling at me. Without thinking, I reached up and plucked it out of the air. Just like that.

It was, of course, the Titanic DVD. They'd really been stupid enough to throw it to me. The moment Alice saw it in my hands, she skidded to a halt and held out hers.

"Bella," she said in a coaxing voice.

"Bella," said Edward in a tone that was, well…not at all coaxing, actually, but still managed to make my insides kind of keel over and turn into soup.

Well, what was I supposed to do now? Just sit there? _Maybe if I hold really still, they won't be able to see me anymore_, I thought, running on the same reserves of logic that used to make me cover my eyes when I played hide and seek in the first grade and assume that no one could see me because I couldn't see them.

Right.

Luckily, Esme chose that minute to wander through the TV room, her nose in a book. So I threw it to her. She caught it, _then_ looked up to see what was going on.

She glanced at us, bewildered, and then at that DVD in her hand. Her face lit up. "I've been looking for this!" she exclaimed, delighted. "Thank you."

And she left.

Everyone sat, staring after her, completely astounded, except for Emmett, who was gripping the couch, laughing so hard that all that was coming out was a very unpleasant gasping/wheezing sound.

I just couldn't help it. I laughed too.

**  
10:46pm**

We didn't watch Titanic (and I profusely thank every god in the cosmos for that reprieve). Rosalie stormed in from the garage in the middle of our heated debate with Annie toddling along beside her, a mangled wrench in her mouth.

"I can't watch her if I'm going to get anything done," Rosalie stated. "She keeps chewing all of my tools." She pushed Annie toward us. "Get her a snack and watch something with her."

It wasn't a request.

So we ended up digging through the Cullens' vast collection of DVD's and managed to find the only one that was in Greek and wasn't some boring documentary on its government or its geography.

No one could remember where they'd gotten it or what it was about, but we popped it into the player anyway and I settled down for a nice boring hour of listening to gibberish and trying to keep Annie from eating anyone's shoes.

We were all thoroughly surprised when Annie started tossing Greek words at the screen as the movie opened, looking thrilled to hear the familiar language.

It was the first time any of us had heard her speak in anything but high-pitched squeals, feral growling sounds, or complete and utter gibberish.

So we left her to it.

It turns out, the movie was about sex. How Alice didn't see that one coming I'll never know, but apparently she was too busy trying to pry her copy of Italian Vogue from between Annie's teeth to notice that the people on the screen weren't exactly playing hopscotch, and Jasper was otherwise occupied, trying to convince her that using the wrench as a weapon was not a good idea.

I'd tuned out the minute the opening credits had started and was wondering about Charlie and Renee and Jacob and not feeling the slightest bit guilty about it, thank you very much.

Edward had smuggled a book from upstairs and was too enthralled to really notice anything was amiss.

And Emmett…He's EMMETT for Pete's sake. He didn't really feel like mentioning it to any of us.

Jasper finally did notice and jumped up to shut it off, but Annie still ended up learning some new words that I don't think anyone had ever really intended to teach her.

Carlisle and Esme are going to be thrilled.

So we found something in English for her to watch (something without any X-rated scenes in it), which she didn't seem to mind. Meanwhile, Emmett and Alice discovered that Edward had taught me a bit of Greek and decided to contribute to my education. She proceeded to teach me how to say dreamer (_oneiropulos_), cold (_krio_), and moon (_selini_).

"The last two should come in handy, at least," she said, shrugging. "The first is just wishful thinking, I suppose." She stared up at the vast window on the other side of the room, her chin propped on her hands, looking as if she was reminiscing about times when she used to sleep.

Though, on second thought, she was probably trying to imagine what sleep was like at all, since she can't possibly remember the times when she did.

I frowned as I realized that there must be a lot of human things Alice couldn't ever remember experiencing, but Emmett's booming voice cut into my musings as he decided to put in his two cents.

He taught me how to say brother (_adelphos_), bad (_kako_), and the translations for various alcoholic beverages.

"Thanks, Emmett," I told him. "That'll come in really handy if I ever get into a booze-drinking contest with a bunch of Greek men."

Which, loosely translated, means, THAT WILL NEVER COME IN HANDY.

And now, I'm lying in bed, sliding my feet around under my new bed sheets, loving their softness. I don't know what this weird new thing I have for bed linens is, but God they're amazing. They almost make up for the fact that I can't actually _sleep_ in them.

Almost.

Edward is sitting beside me on the bed scratching at a piece of paper that looks like new music. There's a mess of boxes and half-unpacked suitcases and dozens of tottering piles of books leaned against the walls and hovering like islands in the middle of the floor.

It's really hard to organize a room when one occupant is going for the pristine, "I spent most of my sad childhood vacuuming my mother's house" look and the other only knows one style of decoration: Mad Genius Chic.

Which is basically a maze of tall bookshelves thrown around the room, blocking your view of everything, endless scraps of paper with bits of music and beautifully scripted notes scribbled in the margins covering every inch of every flat surface, open books strewn haphazardly across the floor, and a lot of dirty underwear anywhere you wouldn't expect dirty underwear to be.

I'm telling you, it's _hard_.

And it's been a very, very strange day. Tomorrow will probably be a thousand times worse.

Is it weird that I'm looking forward to it?

**  
Tuesday  
10:16am**

I was halfway down the stairs on my way to the living room this morning, sometime around 2:00, when all of a sudden a long list was shoved so far under my nose I could see the jagged edges of dried ink staining the miniscule crevices in the paper. It was practically inserted into my left nostril.

"Alice!" I cried, batting her hand away. "What's all—?" Then I got a good look at her and nearly choked on an involuntary giggle.

She looked like she'd fallen into a pile of miscellaneous laundry and come out wearing whatever had stuck. A pair of too-large faded jeans were belted tightly around her waist. The legs had been rolled up at least six times. Her hair had been drawn back into two itty-bitty pigtails at the bottom of her head and all the hair that she couldn't get into either scrunchie stuck out chaotically. Up top she had on a white tank top and covering all of this was a dark green sweatshirt so voluminous that it couldn't have belonged to anyone but Emmett.

It reached her knees.

"Oh…my _God_, did you get into a fight with the dryer?" I asked, one hand clamped over my mouth.

"Esme's doing laundry again," she grumbled. "Her system involves taking all of our clothes at the same time, so I had to find something else to wear. She took your clothes too, but you actually own pajamas, so you don't have to scrounge up old clothes from the backs of everyone's closets." She looked peeved. "I got stuck with the worst stuff since nothing anyone else has fits me.

"But, anyway, that's not what I wanted to talk to you about," she said, waving it off. She shook the piece of paper at me again. "This is a list of all the things we're going to have to go shopping for today—"

"No," I said emphatically.

"—for _Annie_," she finished.

"Oh," I said, taking the list from her after a moment of suspicious eyeing. I looked it over. It seemed straight forward enough, scrawled in Esme's curly handwriting, with little notes added at the end of each item to prevent Alice from going hog-wild:

1. Clothes (modest)

2. Shoes (sensible)

3. Toys (durable)

4. Holy Water and a Crucifix (to banish the hell from her blackened soul)

Okay, that last one I just made up. But it seemed like something they really should have considered adding.

"I need you to come with me," Alice was saying, "to get it all."

"Why?" I asked, horrified.

She folded her arms as we trekked down the last few stairs and into the living room. "Because it's either go with me to shop or stay here and watch Annie again. And considering all that happened last time you were left to baby-sit, you've been volunteered for the job that doesn't involve any form of responsibility over another life. Rosalie will watch her."

"Why can't you take Emmett or Jasper?" I asked.

Alice blinked at me, then gazed pointedly over at Emmett who was sprawled on his back on the couch, his head hanging over the side, gazing upside down at the TV screen like a man transfixed, his mouth hanging open slightly, as if he'd been there for hours and, in that time, had lost control of his jaw muscles. Then she glanced back at me.

I bit my lip. "Point taken."

"So, we wait for Esme to finish washing a few decent clothes for me and then we can head out. In the mean time…" She stuck her hands in the pockets of her too-large jeans. She stared intently at my head. "Haven't you even wondered just a little what that new hair of yours can do? I bet we could even get it to lie flat for once," she said, staring almost hungrily at my head.

I sighed. "Fine. I give you permission to tweak, tease, curl, fluff, and otherwise torture anything you like—"

Alice looked like she might collapse from joy.

"—_after_ I've had a chance to get what needs doing done," I finished.

She heaved a dramatic sight. "I suppose I can wait," she mumbled forlornly.

I laughed. "Go bug Jasper," I suggested. "I'm pretty sure he's in the attic again."

She thought about that for half a second before smiling broadly. "That never does get old. I think I will. Call me when you're done," she tossed over her shoulder as she turned to leave.

I waited until she had vanished back up the stairs before I trudged through the expansive kitchen and out the back door looking for Edward, who had kissed my head and disappeared to the garden an hour ago, with a very big book and a half-mumble about fresh air and thinking.

It took me a little while to find him. Esme had gotten a pretty good head start on her garden and there were tall plants everywhere, just starting to bloom, as well as thick patches of new flowers with small dirt paths weaving between. I made my way down the criss-crossing paths until I came to a ledge. Two short brick walls, spaced a few feet apart by more new green flowers on the ledge below acted as little steps to get to the bottom of the garden. I hopped down to the ledge, which was only a couple of feet below me—a jump I could have made as a human—but stopped and threw up my arms when a flurry of fireflies exploded from the plants I'd landed in.

When I finally looked up, I spotted Edward, standing in a circle of vegetation bare foot, one arm holding the enormous book he'd left with and the other stuck out and curved down, as if he were holding something else that I couldn't see. His feet were moving in a slow, steady rhythm, leading him around the small circle in graceful half turns.

I knew he knew I was there, but his eyes remained glued to the open pages of the book. I watched him for a moment, trying to figure out what he was doing, then suddenly I realized:

He was dancing.

That empty arm was holding an imaginary partner and he was leading them through the steps of some old fashioned dance I didn't know. I laughed, sitting down on the ledge and watching. His lips twitched, but other than that, he gave no signs that he had heard me.

After a moment of watching, my elbows on my knees, my chin on my hands, I ventured, "Do you always dance by yourself in the middle of the night? Or is this just a recent thing? Had boogie fever, did you?"

He smiled. "I've been doing it for years. It's an unconscious habit, but it helps me concentrate." He glanced up briefly. "Why? Do you find it strange?"

I thought about that. "I don't. Not really. I've pretty much accepted that anyone as perfect as you has to have some neurological drawbacks." I tapped my head and made a sound like a cuckoo clock.

Edward laughed. "Somehow, I'm less than flattered."

"I'm just saying," I continued. "Usually people do this sort of thing with a partner."

His face clouded for a moment, but it vanished so quickly I didn't know what to think. "I've…never had anyone else to dance with," he said lightly, trying to sound nonchalant. But I could hear it in his voice: the memory of almost a hundred years spent dancing by himself made him sad. It made me sad too.

Suddenly, I didn't like that I was sitting there and he was fifteen feet away, dancing by himself. He was married for pity's sake. That automatically guaranteed him someone to dance with, even if that someone danced like a cripple with an inner ear infection.

I hopped down off the ledge and fluidly inserted myself into the space between his arm and his body—then hopped onto his feet.

He chuckled. "You know, you don't have to do that anymore."

"Oh, you have no idea how much I do," I said ominously. "Trust me, I tried dancing not too long ago. It did _not _turn out well."

He shrugged, the movement looking distinctly elegant on him whereas on me it had always looked like I had some sort of violent twitching problem. I resisted the urge to try it now and see if that had changed.

"Suit yourself," he said, pulling me in closer until we were cold chest to cold chest.

"You're still reading, aren't you?" I asked as I felt the corner of the open book nudge my back.

"Yes," he said, resting his chin on my head. "Why? Is it bothering you?"

I shook my head. "It probably should be, but no one ever said I was normal."

He smiled. "I don't think the thought of you being normal has ever even crossed anyone's mind."

I pinched his side. "I can be plenty normal, so wipe that grin off your face, mister."

He leaned back to stare at me curiously. "How did you know I was smiling?"

I blinked. That was a very good question. His face had definitely been out of my line of sight, but I'd known for a fact that he was smiling. I could easily chalk it up to just knowing him that well, but that wasn't it.

"I….felt it," I said slowly. "Here." I gestured toward the area where my stone-cold heart lay.

Don't even get me started on how completely cheesy it was. I know. But it was really the only way to describe it. I'd felt him smile, not physically, but…some other way, with some other sense I didn't know I had.

"Well," he said evenly. "That's new."

I rested my cheek on his shoulder and closed my eyes, thinking. We stayed like that for…a while. Hours, days, I don't really know. I lost track of time. But when we went inside and trekked through the living room, Emmett was still lying on the couch, his head in Rosalie's lap now. When he saw me he stopped in the middle of whatever it was he'd been saying and sat up.

"Hey, Bella, Edward." He grinned lecherously. "Where've you two been?"

I rolled my eyes and shot back, "Having sex, Emmett. It's all we do. We have sex everywhere, every minute of every day and when we're not having sex, we think about having sex until we can find a place where we _can_ have sex. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

There was a brief pause, in which Emmett looked like his head was going to explode from pure mirth, and then a voice that made my spine ice over said dryly, "I don't know about his, but it sure does satisfy mine."

I glanced, horrified, in the direction the voice had come from and saw the phone lying on the coffee table. "Charlie!" I squeaked.

"He's on speaker," Emmett choked out between convulsions of laughter. "Say hi!"


	22. Packing And Other Extreme Sports

I have hopes for finishing this story before Breaking Dawn's release. However, considering my very slow performance of late, that may not happen. So wish me luck and lots of gummi bears to get me through the grueling month ahead.

This one's sort of short. Don't hate me.

* * *

**  
10:43am**

Had to leave the computer for a moment. Annie's found the just-for-show silverware and, like all small, not-so-bright children, has been drawn directly toward a light socket.

I wonder if there's something in their brains that makes them think "Hey, here's a shiny metal thing! I wonder what will happen if I stick it in that hole in the wall."

I'll tell you what will happen: DEATH. Or at the very least permanent mental damage.

God knows what would happen to someone who was already dead. I don't know how I'd explain it to the others if Annie suddenly started speaking in Yiddish and walking backwards in circles.

Anyway, I just barely managed to avoid that catastrophe—and nearly got my arm chewed off in the process—but trying to backtrack with any amount of grace after blurting in front of your father that you and your new husband liked nothing better than engaging in endless sexual marathons was difficult to say the least.

I spent the next half hour stuttering through a bottomless heap of small talk, wishing for a time machine or some kind of magical memory dust that could kick the pants off any embarrassing memory, even through the phone.

Or at the very least maybe a big bottomless chasm to open up in the middle of the living room and swallow me whole. I would settle for that.

But all I got was thirty minutes of strangled chitchat about the new house and how I couldn't come down and visit this summer because of Alice's Ultimate Fashion Field Trip Extravaganza. Charlie was disappointed that he wouldn't get to see me at all before school started, but said that he'd be fine as long as I called as often as possible and made sure to cancel all other plans around Thanksgiving and Christmas.

I promised him I would, but I knew that sometime just before both holidays I would come down with some severe semi-life-threatening something-or-other or a really bad hangnail and wouldn't be able to travel. And if Charlie insisted on coming up to see me, which he eventually would after enough of my missed holidays, it would suddenly transform into a _highly contagious_ semi-life-threatening something-or-other.

At some point I was either going to have to tell him I'd moved to Antarctica and joined a convent or flat-out _off _myself.

And since a faked death wasn't really an option because it would defeat the whole "make-this-as-painless-as-possible-for-Charlie-and-Renee" theme completely moot, it looked like it was the nunnery for me.

Hallelujah.

After hanging up, I spent five brief minutes leaning on Edward in exhaustion as if I'd just run a marathon, while he clamped his lips together to keep from laughing.

I jabbed his chest with my finger. "You be quiet, mister, or you're sleeping on the couch for the next decade."

He used his thumb to massage an especially tense spot between my shoulder blades and wisely chose not to say anything.

I sighed, leaning my head against his chest. "Well, it sounds like everything there is fine."

Edward didn't say anything, but I sort-of-felt that smile again.

"He sounded happy, didn't he?" I asked sounding hopeful for some reason, as if I needed reassurance that my absence wasn't going to hurt Charlie after all.

"He sounded fine," Edward agreed softly.

"And I guess all of the vampires from the meeting managed to leave without any trouble. No reports of dead bodies mysteriously drained of blood."

I felt his cheek rub the top of my head as he nodded.

"And now that I'm sure everything is alright," I said, "I'm going to go castrate your brother."

It would have been easier to kill him if Emmett was still in the vicinity, but Rosalie had dragged him bodily from the room when his excessive chortling became too distracting, so I'd have to track him down first.

I stopped on my way up the stairs when Edward surprised me, saying that he needed to speak to Jasper about something and then abandoned me to sniff out his miscreant of a big brother without his assistance.

Edward was almost always by my side and his sudden need to be elsewhere felt weird, like someone had run up, said "May I borrow this for just a moment?" and then run off with my left leg. It left me feeling distinctly unbalanced.

But, leg or no leg, I found Emmett alright.

"Oh, come on, Bella," he chuckled when he saw my face as I came storming into his room. "You have to admit, it was sort of funny."

I stopped a handful of feet in front of him and crossed my arms, my expression probably stonier than Mt. Rushmore.

He held his thumb and forefinger up, spaced an inch apart. "A little funny?"

I continued to glare.

The space between his fingers got smaller. "The smallest modicum of hilarity?"

I think my eyes may have turned red.

He snorted and dropped his hand. "Fine. You didn't think it was funny." Then he mumbled, "No sense of humor."

I took off my shoe and threw it at him.

He rolled his eyes, but didn't seem to notice otherwise as the shoe bounced off his hard head with an audible _thunk_ that probably wouldn't have been quite as satisfying if I were human and my ears weren't able to magnify the sound a thousand times over.

One minute I was standing two yards away and the next I had gotten a hold of his shirt front and dragged his face down to mine until we were eye to eye. I forgot my strength again and felt the cloth of the shirt tear slightly beneath my fingertips. I didn't care.

"Listen to me very carefully," I said pleasantly, the steadiness of my voice in direct contradiction with the stranglehold I had on his collar. "I like you Emmett, I really, really do. Out of all of the men in this house you're the one I spend the least amount of time wanting to dropkick. But let me make this perfectly clear to you: Charlie has spent my entire life living in a cozy, ignorant bubble, where he is under the self-applied delusion that I don't even know which end of the boy is up. And as upsetting as some people might find that—people like Oprah and Dr. Phil, who think that saying how you feel is anything less than absolute carthaginian HELL—I happen to like it because it keeps his heart from giving out and it keeps me from having to sit through any more "helpful fatherly sex chats" than necessary. And if you ever pull anything like that again, no matter how hilarious you might find it, I will hunt you down and do some really unspeakable things to you with a pair of rusty pliers and an extremely sharp letter-opener. Understand?"

Emmett, who is probably used to more graphic threats made by people a lot taller than me (and, of course, Alice, who's in a class all her own) didn't seem especially fazed and, between his ear and his brain, had probably somehow filtered out all of the dire threats and simply heard, "Don't do that again, you absolute putz." But he did his best to look contrite.

"Fine," he sighed. "Fine, I'll be good."

He tried to pull away, but I wouldn't let go, trying to convey with my eyes just how seriously painful my vengeance would be if he didn't do as I said.

"I _promise_," he insisted, sounding a bit more amused than I was comfortable with. But I let him go anyway, nodded to Rosalie, who was sitting on the bed, ignoring both of us, and headed for the door—just in time to hear him chuckle, "Of course, I think you should thank me."

I turned, incredulous. His smile grew and he said, as if he were reading from a "Positive Parenting" handbook, "I think the healthiest father-daughter relationship is an honest one. You have to talk about your feelings and your lives and I think it's only fair that Charlie know that his only daughter is getting horizontal in the back garden."

I was going to throttle him.

He blinked innocently, purposely misinterpreting my fuming silence for confusion. "That's a euphemism for 'having sex'," he said helpfully. Behind him Rosalie rolled her eyes.

If an axe-murderer's "about-to-hack-you-to-death-with-a-rusty-hatchet" smile and the violent, feral bearing of teeth had a love child, the grin I gave him would have been it. "Well then allow me to thank you, Emmett," I said, sweet as vinegar. "I truly appreciate that you cared so much about our emotional well-being. And if you ever feel the need to, I don't know, say, tell either Renee or Charlie anything about my sex life ever again, I'll be back to properly "thank" you." As I headed out into the hallway, I turned and stuck my head back into the room. "And _that's_ a euphemism for 'kick your sorry butt'."

**  
11:16am**

I can't find Edward now. He and Jasper must have taken off somewhere.

**  
11:17am**

Oh, wait, he's left me a note on the bedside table:

O_ffered to go into town and pick up Annie's supplies in your stead, so that Alice will have all the time in the world to help you pack for your trip. Will be gone for a few hours. Have fun and please try not to fall down the stairs or accidentally destroy the house._

_ All my love, _

_ Edward_

I hate men.

**  
11:18am**

All men. They all suck.

**  
11:22am**

Carlisle came through the living room with his nose buried in a newspaper. He briefly glanced up as he passed the couch and smiled at me where I sat on the couch glaring at the TV and angrily crushing the couch cushion in my arms. "Hello, Bella. How have you been holding up?"

"Boys are stupid," I grumped.

"Lovely," he said, absently, and glided out of the room.

**  
11: 27am**

"Oh, Bella!" Alice trilled as she danced _into_ the room. "Are you ready to start packing for our trip?"

"Boys are dumb," I said again.

"Yes, well, that's why we make all of the world's important decisions and they do all the heavy lifting. Now come on!"

I knew I loved Alice for a reason.

**  
11:46am**

"Hey Alice?" I asked as she helped me drag another one of our suitcases out from beneath the pile in my room that I had yet to unpack.

"Yeah?"

"Why would getting Annie's supplies from town take 'a few hours'?"

She dropped the suitcase next to her own on the bed and unzipped it. "Is that what Edward's note said?"

I nodded.

"Oh, I don't know," she said, starting to pull things out. "They're probably going out to do something else. My money's on them running around causing mayhem for six hours and then grabbing Annie's things on the way back home."

I blinked, pausing with a pile of T-shirts in my hand. "Really? Why didn't Edward just say that, then? He didn't have to lie to me about it," I grumbled, feeling slightly affronted that Edward had felt the need to skim over truth.

"Ah, but that's the beauty of it," Alice said wisely, crossing her legs and settling more comfortably onto the bedspread. "He didn't exactly lie, did he? He _is_ going to get supplies for Annie and they _will_ be back in a few hours. He just made it seem like the two were connected in some way when they so obviously are not."

I stared at her, horrified. "They're not dumb enough to actually think that would work, are they?"

"They're men," she said, as if that explained it. As a matter of fact, it did. "Trust me," she continued, moving over to make room for our slowly expanding piles of clothes, "they'll spend the next few hours marveling at how clever they are and thinking that you're sitting at home weighing the amount of fluff inside your head and wondering how far they've gotten on Esme's shopping list."

"Well then what are they _really_ going to do?" I asked. I knew Edward had a lot of interests that I probably hadn't figured out yet besides simple domestic things like reading or writing music, but Jasper? Somehow I couldn't see him anywhere outside of a library or a battle field.

Alice shrugged and pushed a heap of jeans off the bed and onto the floor to make room for her to stretch out on her side. "Oh, they'll probably take their fastest cars, race halfway around America, then climb up something or jump off of something, pound their chests, swing on a vine. You know, men things."

I snorted. "Right. And we'll stay home and knit."

Alice smiled. "You _think_ you're kidding but honestly for men who've lived through so much change and seen how powerful women have grown, they still think like cavemen."

"What?" I asked. "Like, "Me go out, club something, and drag it back. You skin it and then rub my feet"?"

"Something along those lines," she agreed. "And in another fifty years you'll be just like Rosalie, sitting in her room watching Emmett stare, openmouthed at a TV screen, thinking 'Wow. I married that.'"

I laughed. Something in the closet thumped and a muffled voice shouted, "I can hear both of you, and I don't think you're funny." I winced. We'd forgotten that Rosalie's bed was directly over the top of our roofless closet.

Then the door opened and Rosalie said, as she stepped in, having zipped down here at super-speed, "It's true, but you're still not funny."

"Oh, yay!" Alice chirped, pushing more clothes off the bed to make room for Rosalie who was carefully picking her way through the mess toward us. "It's been ages since I've had a real girl talk."

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "I think Bella would disagree with that."

I flashed back briefly to the night Alice had come barging in and started prying answers out of me about my wedding night. If this was anything like that, I was going to run fast and far, and I was sure I could get at least a continent between us before Alice caught me, with my new speed advantage.

I was already calculating the distance from here to the border when Alice said, "But we'll have lots of time for girl talk in Europe, won't we Bella? I can't believe we'll have the entire summer to ourselves, just you and me. It'll be like a sister field trip." She glared at Rosalie. "I'd try to talk Rose into going, but she's no fun and already said she won't."

"I went with you on your last "field trip"," she said. "I will never willingly subject myself to anything like that again."

"We had fun!" Alice said indignantly.

"Yes, we did," Rosalie agreed. "While we were still allowed freedom of movement."

"What does _that_ mean?" I asked, curious.

"She got us _arrested_ on our third day in Madrid," Rosalie clarified.

"What!?"

"Oh, that's unfair," Alice complained, but she still looked slightly embarrassed. "It was a simple misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding," Rosalie chuckled. "She _attacked_ a local designer when he said that Prada was completely out of fashion. She started beating him with her handbag—which was, ironically enough, Prada—shouting at him that Prada was and always would be a classic designer and if he couldn't see the traditional genius then he was an ignoramus and a 'tiny, tiny, man.'"

I turned to stare at Alice who sat with her arms crossed defiantly. She caught me looking and said, "Oh, don't you judge me! He started it with his stupid…" At this point she broke off into imperceptible grumbles.

"We spent the night in jail and probably would have been escorted directly to the border the next morning if…well…"

She shrugged gracefully. At least she was modest enough not to come right out and say, "If we weren't so stunning."

"If it hadn't been a female police officer who'd come to drag Alice off of the poor man, we probably would have been let off with a slap on the wrist and the officer's phone number," she finished.

"That's how it ended with all the others," Alice mumbled sadly.

"Exactly how many misdemeanors did you commit?" I asked, laughing. And then something clicked in the back of my mind.

"Hey, what do you mean, 'just you and me'?" I asked Alice.

Her brow furrowed. "I mean…just _you_. And _me_. Us." She watched my expression. "What?"

"Well, I don't know, I somehow thought that…Edward was going," I said, feeling stupid saying it. Now that I thought about it, I really didn't know why I had assumed Edward would be tagging along on this trip. Alice had never mentioned it, but somehow I'd just assumed…

"Why would Edward come on our trip?" Alice asked, sounding appalled.

"Well…" I suddenly felt defensive. "We only got married a couple of weeks ago, Alice. We never even had a honeymoon! And now we're just supposed to spend two months on different continents?"

Alice looked unhappy as she mentally chewed that one over. "I…I guess I didn't really think about that. I've been married forever and trust me, two months away from Jasper is probably all that's keeping me from pulling a Claudine and shooting him while he's in the shower."

"Pulling a…?" I said, incredulous.

"Claudine Longet," Rosalie supplied, digging through my suitcase and examining a pair of khaki shorts Alice had bought for me that I would never, ever wear in polite company. "Shot her lover, Spider Sabich, while he was getting dressed—" she glanced up at Alice pointedly "—_not_ while he was in the shower."

"He'd just _gotten out_ of the shower, big difference," Alice grumbled.

I opened my mouth to ask how it was that they knew so much homicidal housewife trivia, then snapped it shut again. I really didn't want to know.

"But, Bella, I didn't think…" Alice sighed discontentedly. "I just thought it would be you and me…this…I—" She blew her breath out. "Well, hell."

"It's okay, Alice," I said, my stomach kind of wadding up into a ball. "We could…go without him. It would be fun."

Alice and Rosalie both eyed me carefully, then Rosalie snorted, "Oh, that's convincing."

"Yes, I can _taste_ the sincerity," Alice agreed sarcastically.

"No, really," I persisted. "You're right. Edward and I probably do need some time apart to do our own separate…things."

"She looks like she's chewing nails," Rosalie whispered, looking fascinated.

"Nails? It looks like she's got an entire porcupine in there," Alice whispered back.

I crossed my arms. "Fine. I give up. You figure it out."

**  
12:10pm**

Edward's not going.

But why do I care?

I hate men, right?

**  
12:13pm**

Wrong. I don't hate him. I love him and the two months away are stretching in front of me like a hollow dark abyss filled with bottomless misery.

I have no willpower.

**  
12:20pm**

And I am not taking six pairs of stilettos with me one this trip, no matter what Alice says!

She'll be lucky if she can get me to take one and then it'll take a friggin' miracle to get me to actually wear them.

**  
12:29pm**

Rosalie's taken Emmett out to visit the town. Esme has taken a break from the laundry and is knees-deep in Miracle-Gro and plant-life, and Carlisle is locked in his study trying to translate some big scary text into another language.

It's just me and The Fashion Fuhrer.

This is the first time since I was six that I've thought, "I want my mommy" and meant it.

**  
1:03pm**

Every single conversation we've had in the last half hour has gone something like this:

"No, Alice, I will not wear glitter!"

"But, but—"

"NO."

"No, Bella, you are not bringing that hideous T-shirt."

"But it's so comfortable—"

"NO."

"Alice, I AM NOT bringing anything with sequins!

"Right, but if you'd just listen—"

"NO."

"Bella, put the boxer shorts down and back away from the suitcase."

"But I like wearing—"

"Bella, I have pillows and I am _not_ afraid to use them."

At this rate, I may as well go naked.

**  
1:06pm**

OH MY GOD. I mentioned this to Alice and she actually _looked like she was considering it_ for a moment.

Maybe it's the air in here.

I have got to get out of this house.

**  
1:19pm**

Damn! Alice caught me trying to make a break for freedom through the garage door.

She propped her tiny fists on her tiny hips and said, "You told me you were going to get more shoes."

"And you instantly assumed that I was trying to flee?" I grouched, wondering how she always knew.

"Well, since I've spent the last half hour watching you run through all sixteen of your various escape tactics and, oh yeah, you've had that deer-in-headlights look on your face for an hour, I just assumed. By the way, I really liked the pipe bomb-as-a-distraction idea. Very original, but where would you get a pipe bomb, anyway?"

I groaned. "Forget it." I held my arms straight out, wrists together, arrest-me style. "Lead me to my doom."

Alice rolled her eyes. "You are so melodramatic. If you needed a break all you had to do was say so. We don't leave for another week, so that's plenty of time for me to convince you that sequins are perfectly acceptable when used in moderation and that wearing your husband's boxer shorts to bed while you're traveling abroad is ten different kinds of gauche." She grabbed my hand. "Come on, we'll go into the living room and watch a movie or something. I swear, there's nothing to do in this house. Maybe we should go swimming or sit in Esme's garden…"

**  
1:25pm**

Alice went to fish something more wearable out of the laundry and has told me to wait in the garden with Esme. We couldn't agree on a movie, so we've decided to go over all of Alice's plans for this trip and see if I can't get her to change at least four of her fashion shows to actual sight-seeing trips instead. I'd love to see something other than a bunch of tall gangly women stomping around in silly outfits while I'm there.

Unfortunately, I'm still in my PJ's. I'd better go change into something sitting-in-dirt-discussing-Europe appropriate.

I'll just put my laptop down here for a moment…

**  
ONE WEEK LATER  
Wednesday  
10:18pm**

She stole my laptop.

She STOLE my laptop!

It's been a week! I lost a week of documenting my life!

We're on the plane to New York RIGHT NOW. She _wouldn't_ give it back _until_ we were on the plane.

"It was for your own good," she'd said, as I was spluttering and fuming in the seat next to her, trying to think up a sentence that would properly express my rage. "You weren't devoting all of your attention to the intricacies of the trip. I really should have kept it until we got back, but you're so obsessed with the stupid thing you wouldn't have been able to concentrate on anything else."

"YOU TOLD ME YOU HADN'T SEEN IT!" I practically shouted, and one of the air hostesses and a handful of the other passengers in first class turned to frown at me. I lowered my voice to a venomous hiss. "I thought Annie had hid it or eaten it, or that maybe Emmett was playing another one of his not-so-funny tricks on me! I called him—Oh my God, I don't even want to think about what I called him! Although this might explain why he laughed so hard about that," I mumbled to myself.

"Oh, just relax," Alice said, patting my hand and settling more comfortably into her seat. "We'll be in New York in a couple of hours and then we'll be on our way to London!" She made a small squealing noise and squirmed excitedly. "Oh, this going to be so much fun!"

I quickly flipped open my phone and dialed Edward's number. He had been fine with being left behind, but he did make me swear to send him a postcard from every country we visited. Jasper pulled me aside briefly as we headed for the security gate and told me to make sure Alice didn't try to take me to a place called "The Underground" when we visited York. I asked why, but he just gave me this brief haunted look and said, "Trust me. Just avoid it at all costs."

Edward's voicemail picked up and I growled into the phone, "Tell Jasper to find himself a mourning shroud and a new wife, because I am going to kill Alice."

Beside me Alice sighed and murmured, "She's so sensitive."

And then the stewardess popped up out of nowhere with her big plasticky Flight Attendant Barbie smile and asked me to "Please turn off all electronic devices during the flight." The she asked if there was anything that I needed.

"Yes, a blunt trauma weapon would be great," I replied.

She blinked at me.

"Excuse her," Alice leaned over to tell the startled woman. "We accidentally packed her medication into one of the suitcases."

The stewardess nodded, and shuffled off quickly.

I wonder if anyone would notice if I just sort of threw myself out of the Emergency Exit.

No, I guess that wouldn't be very subtle would it?

Ah, well. I certainly hope the Big Apple is ready for Alice.

**  
10:26pm**

Okay, there's a man in a suit across the aisle who's been shamelessly ogling me for the past fifteen minutes.

You'd think flying first class would mean you wouldn't have to put up with this sort of thing.

It's been one hour and I already want to go home.

**  
10:27pm**

But just between me and this diary…

I might be a _little_ excited.

**  
11:08pm**

The in-flight movie stinks, the woman behind me is experiencing a serious bout of air-sickness, and if that stupid flight attendant asks me one more time if I'm "sure I don't want anything to eat? To drink? Nothing? Really? We have a very wide selection. I'd be happy to get you anything you'd like! Really, don't hesitate to ask! Are you sure? Alright, I'll come back in fifteen minutes and see if you changed your mind!" I'm going to shove her jaunty little hat DOWN HER THROAT.

Phew. I think traveling brings out the worst in me.

**  
11:16pm**

It brings out the worst in Alice too.

She's bored, so she keeps adjusting the overhead fans and ordering drinks she knows she won't like and sipping them and making awful faces because they taste bad. She ate a honey roasted peanut, practically had a seizure, and spat the thing across the aisle and hit a very grouchy-looking business-woman who turned and sent us a glare that could have peeled the paint off a barn from fifty paces.

Oh, and every member of the male species in first class, including all of the male flight attendants, has found some reason or other to walk by our seats and eyeball us. We may have looked a little bit out of place with our long-sleeved sweaters and jeans in this summer heat, but somehow I didn't think that was the problem.

One guy went so far as to accidentally-on-purpose trip as he went by and spilled his scotch all over my jeans, then solicitously rubbed my leg for ten minutes trying to get the stain out. The fact that he was staring stupidly at us while he did this meant that he spent two minutes rubbing the wrong leg before he realized what he was doing. I kept trying to tell him that I could do it myself, but he insisted.

And Alice thought it was very funny, the traitor.

"What?" she asked innocently, when I finally managed to make Gropey McGee go away.

"I should have you drawn and quartered," I muttered. "Turncoat."

She grinned shamelessly.

**  
2:45am  
New York**

Well. We've hit New York. Almost literally. We had an hour between flights and Alice certainly made the most of it. I swear, one minute I was stepping onto solid ground and the next I was outside the airport being shoved into the back of a taxi cab that Alice must have body-blocked in order to get it to stop so quickly. And she must have really done her homework about the surrounding area because, after bribing the driver with enough cash to put him in up at the Plaza for a year so that he'd ignore any and all traffic laws, we were dropped off in front of a row of shops a mile long and I was being ushered in.

I've also learned that things don't close in New York. In Forks the 24-hour mini-mart closed at eleven. Here when it got dark people apparently just turned on a lot of lights, took off their sunglasses so they wouldn't crash into anything, and went about their business.

And Alice was in heaven, ordering around store assistants and deep-sea diving into rack after rack of clothes. At one point I had to remind her to take it down a notch because one nervous-looking assistant was gaping, startled, after seeing her go from one rack to another on the other side of the store in .5 seconds flat.

And then she found a Victoria's Secret and I ended up spending our last few minutes in New York shouting at her in the middle of an underwear store that I would rather have bamboo shoots shoved under my fingernails than buy "that flimsy piece of nothing you keep shoving under my nose." The store assistants didn't like me very much after that, but I still ended up staggering out of the store with my weight in undercrackers.

Now we're approaching the security gate, so I'd better—

**  
2:51am**

We haven't even been here an hour and half the security staff is already afraid of Alice, because one poor schmuck tried to confiscate her perfume and she went absolutely mental.

I've been sending Edward e-mails up to this point, updating him on what we've been doing. He's useless in this situation, since he seems to find it absolutely hilarious, but Jasper put in his two cents and suggested that I hint to Alice that if she by some mistake loses this perfume he might be willing to buy her the new one she'd been eyeing for the past few weeks.

It was amazing how quickly she let the whole thing go. I swear, by the end she was practically paying them to take it.

Now I'm waiting on the other side of the checkpoint while four male security guards search her, using her scene-making as an excuse to pretty much feel her up. She's happily humming to herself, though, probably thinking about her new perfume, and hasn't really noticed.

Or maybe she's just used to it.

But at least she's not throwing around words like "castration" and "disembowelment" anymore.

She really does have a…_vivid_ (terrifying) imagination.

**  
3:12am**

Alright, we've made it onto the plane and thankfully, there were no causalities getting here. Alice is happily daydreaming about bottles of perfume and the four billion pairs of underwear she bought (thankfully none of it indecent).

And now we're headed for Jolly Old England.

I hope they're ready, because Alice is going to all but wage war on their shops.

**  
3:20am**

"Hey Bella?" asked Alice suddenly.

"Hm?" I asked, looking up from the window I'd been gawking out of.

"How do you feel about…kids?"

I frowned. Alice bobbed her head across the aisle to where a woman who looked like a nanny sat with her twelve-year-old charge. The boy was staring fixedly at my chest like he was trying to see through my shirt. He looked up, caught my gaze, and waggled his little pervy eyebrows lasciviously.

Alice giggled.

This was going to be a long flight.


	23. On Foreign Ground

I wanted to finish the entire Europe trip in just one chapter, but, as I wrote, the whole thing took me in so many different directions that before I knew it the chapter was twenty-five pages and nowhere near done. So I've decided to split it up into chapters. Here's the first sixteen pages. Because I know I have a problem with long-windedness, I decided to compress the two-month trip by making these chapters out of e-mails, letters, postcards, and the occasional frantic phone call. No more diary entries until after the trip.

Alright, first, the "To"s and "From"s are e-mail addresses but FanFiction doesn't seem to like the "at" sign, so you'll just have to use your vivid imaginations and pretend that they're there, okay? And also, that bit of French that Edward writes really was put through an internet translator. Bella's translation was what came up when I ran it back through the translator. If you speak French, simply know that I do not and that's the best I can do. Live with it.

To all of my betas: SORRY SORRY SORRY if I'm not doing this fast enough or haven't gotten back to you, but with Breaking Dawn coming out soon I keep blacking out for brief periods of time and waking up covered in black and red paint with "I Love Edward" tattooed somewhere different on my body. But what can you do?

* * *

**To: ecullen  
From: bellathemagnificent  
Date: July 17 – 9:44AM  
Subject: First Day**

**Location: London, England**

Very rainy. Everyone speaking in funny accents. And I spent the long flight here being ogled by the prepubescent lech in the seat next to me. And then, of course, my glorious trip ended with me walking into a metal detector, tripping over my luggage (recreating a classic Three Stooges moment), and being caught on film screaming "SANCTUARY!" in the middle of the crowded airport like a mental patient when Alice tried to take my laptop away.

The video should be going up on YouTube any day now.

We're at the hotel now, and we made it pretty safely since Alice wisely hired a limousine to chauffer us from Point A to Point B. I'd hate to be arrested on charges of vehicular manslaughter on my first day, just because I couldn't remember to stay on the left side of the road.

The room is, of course, pointlessly large. There are two bedrooms, each the size of football fields, a connecting bathroom, and a common room decorated with over-the-top plush furniture, a fireplace, flowers that don't smell quite like flowers, and—Edward you should s_e_e the bathtub! It's mammoth! I swear, the entire ship Titanic could sink into it without a trace and NEVER HIT BOTTOM.

I tried to explain to Alice the idea of "downsizing" and she stared at me like I was an alien life form, so I'm guessing the next hotel room we stay in will probably be big enough to take care of that hole-in-the-ozone problem.

Alice is a little bit sick, though. She got bored on the plane and ate a smidgeon of food out of curiosity, so she's worshipping the porcelain goddess as we speak. The sound of the retching mixed with the pitter-patter of rain on the windows and the not-quite-right smell of artificially enhanced flowers is coalescing to create the sort of ambiance one might find in a mental hospital. Peachy.

One small problem as well: me and crowds apparently don't mix. I noticed it in the airport first, while we were wading through the sea of people heading for our gate. It started as just a kind of itch in the back of my throat, but by the time we made it to the hotel I was ready to pounce on the bellhop. So we've made an ingenious deduction: I should not be around large crowds for any excessive amount of time.

Brilliant, right?

So we'll have to keep that in mind while we're out.

On the bright side (no pun intended, but feel free to note the irony), this uber-depressing British weather means that we ought to be able to make it through the afternoon without having to shut all the drapes and climb into our respective coffins to hide from the light of day. Of course, somewhere in London a thousand sad Brits are committing suicide because there's no sunlight to coax them down off that ledge, but that's the price you pay, isn't it?

Anyway, if I don't write back soon, I've probably fallen into the bathtub and haven't found a rope long enough to get myself back out. Call for help.

Pip-pip and cheerio and…hell, I don't know, something else British.

Bella

**To: ****bellathemagnificent**  
**From: ecullen  
Date July 17 – 10:05AM  
Subject: Re: First Day**

I'm glad to hear you made it safely and in one piece, though I'm sorry that your flight was so taxing. I would, however, suggest you give up trying to instill any sense of frugality in Alice; she's built up an immunity to it over the past few decades, and no amount of talking is going to cure her.

Just accept it and move on.

Things are relatively calm here. Annie's been eating regularly, whenever Emmett brings something home for her. We'll probably start taking her out to hunt soon (with supervision, of course). And Paddy seems to be acclimating to the new house fairly well. He's only fallen out of one door so far, but did manage to shut himself in a cupboard in the kitchen for over an hour before Esme finally noticed and let him out. Luckily, he's found the swimming pool in a room off the basement and has been practically living in it ever since, so he's occupied for now.

Everyone else is fine, but we miss you already.

And don't think I didn't notice how quiet you were when I left you at the airport yesterday. I've apologized for not telling you that I wasn't going and I really, truly am sorry, but you have to understand that I honestly thought you knew. To be honest, I didn't want to dwell on it. You seemed to be warming up to the idea of visiting Europe and I didn't want to spoil the experience by pointing out that eight weeks apart would be agony for me. It seemed selfish to mention that I would miss your smile and your laughter and your weight next to mine when I'm in bed and the smell of sunlight in your hair when you come in from Esme's garden. I thought it might upset you to know that I can't think about anything else and that I feel your absence like a hollow hole where my heart should be. And I certainly didn't want to explain how absolutely insane I'll go when the scent of your skin on my pillow fades.

No, I couldn't do that to you.

It would be cruel of me.

**To: ecullen  
From: bellathemagnificent  
Date: July 17 –10:24AM  
Subject: Re: First Day**

…That's it, I'm coming home.

**To: ****bellathemagnificent**  
**From: ecullen  
Date: July 17 – 10:53AM  
Subject: Re: First Day**

Please don't. I apologize, that was unfair of me. I just wanted you to know that I miss you and that I love you.

I want you to have a good time so you'll have plenty of stories to tell me when you return. And don't worry about me. I'm sure Emmett and Jasper will find some way to torture me just as thoroughly as Alice is torturing you.

So when you're standing in a crowded room in twenty-five-inch heels that Alice shoehorned you into with bright flashing lights blinding you from all directions watching skinny women strut down a stage, close your eyes and think of me.

Yours always,

Edward

P.S. By the way, I like the new e-mail address. Very humble.

**To: ecullen  
From: bellathemagnificent  
Date: July 17 – 11:06AM  
Subject: Re: First Day**

You've got me seriously rethinking the wisdom of agreeing to this trip.

And I'm not mad at you anymore. I never really was, but next time, I WANT WARNING. I need to build myself up to these separations, okay? Maybe have a really big knock-down, drag-out fight with you just before I leave so I won't miss you so much.

And then I can spend the entire trip looking forward to the wild, steamy make-up sex we'll have when I get back.

Mmm. That thought alone ought to get me through at least four shopping trips and a fashion show.

Kisses, hugs, and a lot of dirty, dirty thoughts to get you through the day,

Bella

P.S. Isn't it though? I got a new one, just for e-mails from the trip. Alice suggested it.

P.P.S. We have a pool? Huh.

* * *

Hey, Edward,

I completely forgot to give this to you before we left so I'm mailing it now. However, I've assigned Jasper and Emmett the job of making sure you don't spend all day staring at it, picturing what Bella must be doing in each country as we go.

Don't deny that you would have! I know you! And while we're gone, so help me, you WILL have a life!

Alice

**EUROPE ITINERARY **

**(I've put exclamation points after every country that makes my toes curl—enjoy!)**

United Kingdom—July 17-20

Ireland—July 21

France (!)—July 22-25

Spain (!)—July 26-29 (brief field trip to Lisbon on the 27th)

Italy (!!) July 30-August 3 (making a wide, wide circle around Volterra)

Switzerland to Luxembourg—August 4 (just passing through on our way to…)

Germany (!)—August 5-7 (sightseeing on the 5th; PARTY on the 6th; recovery on the 7th and…)

Vatican City and Malta—August 8

Greece (!)—August 9-12

Macedonia—August 12

Romania (TRANSYLVANIA!)—August 13-16 (we just HAVE to stay here, Edward, it's like vampire tradition)

**EUROPE ITINERARY PART TWO (the super-high-speedy-get-home-in-time-for-school-part)**

Hungary—August 17

Austria—August 18

Czech. Republic—August 19

Poland—August 20

Denmark—August 21

Norway—August 22

Sweden (!)—August 23 and 24

Finland—August 25

Russia (!)—August 26-30 (TECHNICALLY this isn't entirely Europe, but Bella won't be able to deny that it's not quite Asia either, so Moscow, here we come!)

Then a long, long train ride all the way back through the entire continent (a re-cap, if you will) which should last about two or three days if we don't get distracted, and then back to the UK, where we'll hop on a flight back to New York, do some emergency back-to-school shopping and head home.

* * *

**To: ecullen  
From: bellathemagnificent  
Date: July 19 – 4:09AM  
Subject: Ah, London—A Short Story**

I've had an overflow of creative juices and decided to write you a little story to help you fully appreciate the depth of the fun I'm having here in London. It goes a little something like this:

It's a quiet scene, taking place on a peaceful night in a surprisingly serene part of London. A girl wanders down a little London street. She's been let out from under the oppressive (stiletto) heel of her Fuhrer for a very short window as said Fuhrer spotted a sale at Bloomingdale's from fifty paces and barreled through six lanes of traffic before the line of taxi cab drivers who had screeched to a halt could finish shouting what a "bloody menace" she was. One may have also used the word "bollocking". Who knows.

Anyway, a joyful smile plays across the girl's face as she marvels at the beauty of the city after dark, the streets full of happy, smiling people, with a big, beautiful moon shining down on her.

She pauses, breathes deeply of the night air and thinks, "Nothing could be better than this."

Oh, the naïveté of the innocent.

It's as she's drinking in this sweet moment that the heel of her knee-high leather boot (which had been manhandled onto her earlier that morning by a five-foot Hell-spawn equipped with threats of bodily harm and a persuasive strategy that had been executed with all the complex subtlety of a four-ton wrecking ball) becomes wedged in a street grate. The kind used to let air out of a subway.

And so it begins.

The girl thinks, "Oh dear. My foot seems to be stuck in this street grate. I'll just reach down and—" The girl doesn't get to finish her thought because, at this point, she loses all sense and brings her other foot over for balance so that she can reach the stuck boot.

Her other foot becomes stuck.

Now she is in a pickle.

The girl thinks, "Oh my, what shall I do now?" (give or take a swear word or two) and calmly examines her options:

Option 1. Curse her sister-in-law and anyone else whose involvement might have led up to this moment, including the people at Bloomingdale's for having a sale and the airline she'd flown on for giving her a ticket in the first place. (She briefly indulges in this, and then moves on.)

Option 2. Politely ask the next person who comes along for help (use violent threats if necessary).

Option 3. Wiggle out of this situation herself.

Being thoroughly allergic to all things "Damsel in Distress" in nature after many unfortunate run-ins with the position, she chooses Option 3.

Now, she can either a.) yank her boots out of the grate one by one, possibly destroying the heels on said boots, and then spend the rest of the night watching Alice stare at her with that wounded, "How could you?" look on her face as she wept over the mangled designer footwear or b.) reach down, try to unzip them, and go from there.

She chooses the option that involves less crying. Bending down toward the left boot she realizes that her right foot is stuck just that little bit too far away and behind her to allow this situation to be dealt with at all gracefully.

In fact, bent double in her knee-high boots and pencil skirt with her legs spread partway open, she's pretty sure she looks like a hooker. Hoping that no men come by and take it as a free invitation, she bends over a little bit more. Cool air rushes up her skirt, blowing it up over her back and she jerks upright, trying to push it down.

Her left boot sinks in deeper.

And then it starts to rain.

She briefly considers suicide.

In the end, the girl's Master and Commander comes trucking around the corner holding an umbrella in one hand and fourteen tons of shopping bags draped over both arms and accidentally cracks the girl over the head with a bag full of pashminas.

The girl falls, snaps the heels on both boots, and spends the rest of the night trying on cashmere sweaters as repentance.

THE END.

The Moral of This Story: I HATE LONDON.

**To: ****bellathemagnificent**  
**From: ecullen  
Date: July 19 – 4:23AM  
Subject: His words, not mine**

I feel nothing but the deepest sympathy for your plight.

Jasper, however, says "I told you so."

* * *

**GREETINGS FROM IRELAND!**

**July 21**

_Hey, Edward! I know postcards aren't usually my style, but I walked past a rack of them in the gift shop of one of the billion museums Bella's making me visit and I just couldn't help myself. I wanted to write and tell you that everything's been amazing so far! Even Bella hasn't been able to complain yet. Ireland is just as amazing as I remember, though the effect is amplified by not having Rosalie moaning on and on about how muddy the whole place is and how she hates the entire country for being so damned misty and making her clothes all damp. There's something to be said for having someone as low-maintenance as Bella around. Anyway, we've been touring boring old castles all day per Bella's request, and she's only put her foot through one moldering floor board, broke two door handles, and crushed a miniature figurine that might possibly have been a priceless piece of Irish history. So, not bad at all, if you consider that Human Bella would have managed to bring the entire castle crashing down around us by now, just by sheer force of will. But whatever. Hope everything's alright back home. Oh, and tell Jasper I said hello and…well, I'll keep all of the dirty stuff to myself and write him a letter when we get back to the inn. Yes, that's right, we're staying in an inn. Isn't that quaint? _

_Your darling sister (who I'm sure you miss terribly),_

_Alice_

* * *

**To: ecullen  
From: bellathemagnificent  
Date: July 23 – 9:15AM  
Subject: The City of "I love you, no_ I_ love _you_, well I love you _more_, no _I_ love _you_ more, no…"**

**Location: Paris, France**

Watching all of these head over heels couples sauntering around staring adoringly into each others eyes is getting on my very final nerve. It's just endless couples tripping dizzily through the streets, reciting love poems and necking like horny teenagers in darkened street corners. I haven't seen any woman over the age of nine or under the age of "where the hell'd I leave my teeth" who doesn't seem to have a date, or a beau, or a gentleman caller, or a freaking MAN SLAVE. I'm starting to suspect that they won't let you cross the border without a man on your arm and the only way we got through is because Alice secretly pretended we were lesbians.

The whole place is driving me batty, and I'm already halfway to crazy as it is with Alice dragging me from one social hotspot to then next.

Luckily, though, there was a brief break in the lovey-dovey monotony when one couple we spotted as we were crossing the street became so deeply involved in staring all goo-goo eyed at one another that they tripped over a café sign and rolled into the street where, as a bonus, the woman accidentally kneed the man in the groin while they were trying to disentangle themselves and crawl out of the way of a tour bus. I say, if you can't join 'em, laugh bitterly at their pain!

BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

They may have to ship me home from France in a straight jacket.

Yours (loose screws and all),

Bella

**To: ****bellathemagnificent**  
**From: ecullen  
Date: July 23 – 9:29AM  
Subject: _Je t'aime_**

___Bonjour, mon petite amour._

___ Je vous manque profondément et espère vous voir bientôt. Je souhaite que je pourrais être là pour voir la France avec vous. It is impossible d'apprécier vraiment la vue sans quelqu'un grignotant sur votre cou, que je serais seulement trop heureux de faire. Retournez bientôt, mon coeur. Je sens votre absence comme un mal constant. _

___Avec tout mon amour_,

_Edward_

**To: ecullen  
From: bellathemagnificent  
Date: July 23 – 9:47AM  
Subject: Re: Je t'aime**

I have no idea what you said, but je vous manqué to you too, mister.

Since the closest thing to a Romance language I know is Pig Latin:

I-yay uv-lay oo-yay.

Ours-yay,

Ella-bay

**To: ecullen  
From: bellathemagnificent  
Date: July 23 – 9:53AM  
Subject: Re: Je t'aime**

Wait, wait. I've just run your e-mail through a translator on the internet and come up with this:

_______Hello, my small love. You miss me terribly and hopes to see you soon. I wish for to be there to see France with you. It is not possibly to really appreciate the sights without the man in love devouring your neck, which I would be only too happy to make. Income soon, my heart. I feel your absence like a constant evil. _

_______With all my love,_

_______Edward_

Hm. I'm thinking we must have gotten our wires crossed or something, unless you really did mean to wax poetic about ripping out my throat. And I'm assuming there's a very good explanation behind that "constant evil" bit?

Bella

**To: ****bellathemagnificent**  
**From: ecullen  
Date: July 23 – 10:15AM  
Subject:Re: Je t'aime**

For the sake of our marriage, I feel the need to clarify:

Hello, my little love. I miss you terribly and hope to see you soon. I wish I could be there to see France with you. It is impossible to truly appreciate the sights without a lover nibbling on your neck, which I would be only too happy to do. Come back soon, my heart. I feel your absence like a constant ache.

Please don't rely on internet translators if you want to translate anything longer than four words; they can turn a love poem into a death threat with practically no effort on their part.

With all my love,

Edward

* * *

**BONJOUR!**

**July 24**

_________We're leaving Paris sometime around, oh, NOW, I'm thinking, before I lose my mind or get dragged into Bella's gaping vortex of depression. It's like walking around the world's most magical city beside a big black cloud with the word DOOM stamped across it. Lights flicker and go out as we pass. Kissing couples are wrenched apart by an unknown, sinister force. Unsuspecting lovers are overcome with a desperate urge to hang themselves with their neckties or drown themselves in their cups of coffee. So we're leaving before she becomes responsible for the Great Affection Massacre of 2008. Oh, and I blame you entirely, in case you were wondering. And we didn't even get to visit my friend Aubert…however, Bella DID manage to drag me to the Eiffel Tower, The Louvre and about several-dozen other tourist attractions and made me stand around while she "oohed" and "aahed" like a…well, a tourist. I'm going to have to teach her how to blend, to prevent further mortification on my part. I love her, but all she needs is a camera, a Hawaiian-print shirt, a really bad sunburn, and possibly a sandwich board that says "I DON'T LIVE HERE" to make her American Tourist aura complete._

_________Hope you're having more fun than I am,_

_________Alice  
_

* * *

**--The number you have dialed is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone--**

"EDWARD, WHY DO I AGREE TO THINGS LIKE THIS?

Honey, now that we're married, it comes to you to talk me out of unwise, possibly harmful decisions—decisions like getting a bob, or buying a plane, or walking naked into oncoming traffic, or GOING ON ELONGATED EXPEDITIONS WITH YOUR CHEMICALLY IMBALANCED SISTER.

E-mail me as soon as you get this message, or I won't be responsible for what I do!"

* * *

**To: ****bellathemagnificent**  
**From: ecullen  
Date: July 27 – 1:53PM  
Subject: Your Message**

Sorry I didn't answer my phone this morning. I was being mentally drawn and quartered by my brothers. Now that you two are away, Rosalie's always out, and Esme's grown roots and planted herself in the back garden, they've decided that brotherly sex chats over a nice insipid video game and/or war movie are a great way of bonding. Of course, they're not the ones with the front-row, IMAX version of all the filthy things they talk (and think) about. Being inside their heads is the mental equivalent of being repeatedly hit over the head with a railroad spike.

Anyway, I got your message and I take it you're not having a good time. Surprising, since I thought you'd like Spain. It has a lot of history and you like history right?

Yours always,

Edward

**To: ecullen  
From: bellathemagnificent  
Date: July 27 – 2:02PM  
Subject: SPAIN SUCKS**

**Location: (You guessed it)—Madrid, Spain**

See subject title.

**To: ****bellathemagnificent**  
**From: ecullen  
Date: July 27 – 2:08PM  
Subject: Re: SPAIN SUCKS**

Well, that's a bit broad, don't you think?

Bella, please just tell me what's wrong. Have you accidentally tripped and knocked over a national monument? Stepped on someone's roses? Set fire to a vaquero?

**To: ecullen  
From: bellathemagnificent  
Date: July 27 – 2:15PM  
Subject: Re: SPAIN SUCKS**

DON'T YOU PATRONIZE ME!

**To: ****bellathemagnificent**  
**From: ecullen  
Date: July 27 – 2:23PM  
Subject: Re: SPAIN SUCKS**

Alright, I'm sorry. Please tell me what's happened. I worry, you know.

**To: ecullen  
From: bellathemagnificent  
Date: July 27 – 2:39PM  
Subject: Re: SPAIN SUCKS**

Your menace of a sister has burned my flannels.

BURNED THEM. My shirts, my pajamas, even a pair of comfy shorts I found in flannel (and you know how desperate she's been to get me into shorts). I found a big pile of smoking ash this morning behind the little villa we're staying in and when I looked all of my flannels were gone. I don't know how she did it, or when she did it, or whether or not she toasted marshmallows over the crackling flames and cackled evilly while she did it, but AS GOD IS MY WITNESS, SHE WILL PAY!

Miss you,

Bella

* * *

**CIAO! FROM BEAUTIFUL ITALY!**

**July 31**

_Ciao, bellissimo! Have I ever told you that I was BORN to be in Italy? The entire place is couture heaven! Everyone is so amazingly dressed—and the MEN. It has got to be something in the water that makes European men so much more attractive than American men. Don't tell Jasper, but I might be coming home with a souvenir—a very buff souvenir named Alfonso. You can't see me now, but there's a lot of suggestive eyebrow waggling going on, trust me. Bella is in hell of course, since I refuse to let her out of the house in any of those ridiculous jeans-T-shirt-ratty-sneakers outfits she's so fond of. She's angry at me now because she has falsely accused me of burning all of her flannel clothing. I'm shocked and hurt, of course, but on a completely different subject and just out of random curiosity…WHERE DID SHE MANAGE TO FIND FLANNEL SHORTS?? Honestly! Where do they even sell things like that, the zoo? Flannels R' Us? Or did she just go out in search of a store called "Put Your Sister-In-Law Into An Early Grave"? All I know is that while she's in Italy she will dress like she actually put some thought into her ensemble, not like she fell into a basket of clothes and came out wearing whatever stuck. Hope you're having fun back home. Don't let the boys pick on you too much._

_Love,_

_Alice_

_P.S. I hope you like this postcard. I picked it out in anticipation of your reaction._

* * *

**To: ecullen  
From: bellathemagnificent  
Date: August 1 – 11:33AM  
Subject: Thanks**

**Location: Venice, Italy**

I got your care package. I don't know how you managed to pinpoint where we'd be and when, but I'm guessing it has something to do with my very helpful detailed map and itinerary that I sent you and NOTHING whatsoever to do with Alice's useless list of countries and dates. Who the hell puts "Russia" down as a location? She does realize that "Russia" is over six and a half MILLION square miles, right?

Anyway, I was a little concerned by the bottles of blood you sent. As kind as it is that you're "worried Alice might not be feeding me properly", sending me big canisters full of deer blood is a bit on the serial-killer side. And what if they'd had to open the package for some reason during its international trip? It would be kind of hard to explain to Customs what I wanted with ten gallons of blood (which, by the way, they wouldn't know came from a deer).

Oh, and packing seventeen bottles of Valium with a note that says "a bottle a day keeps the madness away" positively REEKS of Emmett. Tell him thanks for me, because the only way I'll be able to survive until the end of this whole Europe fiasco is by being either a saint (which I am not by any means) or heavily medicated.

I'll take the latter, thanks.

And I was terribly sad that you weren't there for me to hug when I saw the flannel pajamas you'd tucked into the bottom of the box. Have I told you how much I love you?

Oh, and Alice thinks it's disgusting that you sent me one of your shirts without putting it through the laundry first, but I wear it every night and it smells like you and GOD I MISS YOU.

I hate this. When I get back, we're going to a doctor and I'm having you surgically attached to my hip. Seriously.

Love you, love you, love you,

Bella

P.S. You think I'm kidding, don't you?

I'm not.

P.P.S. Does that Valium actually work? Because I really could use a sedative right about now. If not, I'm sure I could find someone around here who would tranquilize me or club me in the back of the head…I'm not picky.

P.P.P.S. I hear you're a victim of Alice's postcard rampage. You poor, poor man.

**To: ****bellathemagnificent**  
**From: ecullen  
Date: August 1 – 12:06PM  
Subject: Re: Thanks**

Hello, Bella, my love, my darling. It is I, your sweet Edward! I've received your virtual letter and am dazzled and humbled by the knowledge that you find me, a humble prude of a man, worthy enough to receive a message written by your own pure, perfect hands.

I am not worthy of your flawless beauty or your eloquent writings. I miss you so. Every day that you are gone my love for you grows, as does my deep, endless misery. I spend my hours angst-ing around the house, weeping and writing very dreary (very bad) poetry about the blackness of my nonexistent soul. The days that I must face without you stretch ahead like a dark, never-ending chasm, filled with demons and monsters and such. I feel incomparable agony every hour, no minute, no SECOND, that you are not here beside me where I may gaze upon your delicate splendor!

Ah, my dearest Bella, I ache for you. My loins burn for—

Oh, hell, Edward's coming back.

I'll talk to you later Bells!

Emmett

**To: ****bellathemagnificent**  
**From: ecullen  
Date: August 1 – 12:22PM  
Subject: My brother is an idiot.**

Dammit! I'll have to change my e-mail password now (how does he keep figuring it out?). I don't know what kind of nonsense that senseless lout's been sending you, but if it was in any way offensive please tell me so that I can clobber him without feeling any remorse.

I'm glad you liked the care package. Esme wheedled and pleaded until I agreed to send you the blood. She's more worried than I am about your eating habits, though I have to admit, it's not entirely out of the realm of the possible that Alice might forget to take you out for a meal for a few days. And if your confession about crowds earlier wasn't an exaggeration, then you'll need to eat more often and Alice has a habit of getting distracted in highly fashionable cities.

Just remind her that, while she personally might be able to live off of the fumes of well-made clothes alone, you need something a bit more tangible.

I miss you too, and I debated sending you that shirt for days. I'm glad it came across as romantic, as opposed to psychotic (trust me, I had doubts about how you'd interpret it).

In the end, I decided that having my scent with you as I have yours with me would be comforting for you as well.

Either that, or you would be sending me the divorce papers and restraining order in the mail in a few days.

I took the gamble.

Things here are a bit bumpy. Our plumbing is still a little off and now only Rosalie and Emmett's bathtub and the kitchen sink downstairs run hot water. It's not so important to me to have hot water, but Paddy seems drawn to it and found his way into Rosalie's bathroom while she was drawing a bath. When she came back from getting clean towels and found your duck splashing around in her fresh bathwater…

Well, let's just say if he ever comes out of hiding he'll be one sorry (not to mention headless) little pheasant.

Annie's begun speaking, as well. It's mostly in Greek with the occasional badly-pronounced English word thrown in, but it's something. She's developed a fondness for Emmett and the two of them have been spending a lot of time together (plotting world domination, I'm guessing).

Charlie called again to ask how you are. I told him I'd say hello for him, so: "Hello."

I truly hope you're enjoying Italy more than Spain.

Yours,

Edward

P.S. I have no problems being surgically attached to you, but it might make all of that "steamy make-up sex" you had in mind a bit difficult.

P.P.S. No, Valium probably won't work on you, but it's the thought that counts, isn't it?

P.P.P.S. Yes, Alice has been sending an inordinate amount of postcards (though Jasper is getting the brunt of it; he'll be able to paper his walls with them by the time your trip is done). Please inform her that, while I love hearing about her day, I'd prefer it if she didn't send me any more with pictures of famous Italian statues' penises on them.


	24. Edward?

My computer crashed and I lost half this chapter and had to rewrite it from memory, so sorry it took so long, but you have NO IDEA how much typing I've been doing to make up for it.

I actually can't feel any of my fingers. Seriously. They're all completely numb. My right pointer finger actually looks a bit shorter...

To my betas: I haven't heard from some of you in a while, and others I can't really remember, so if you still want me to proof your story, send me a PM, please. I'm losing track of you guys, fast.

And, finally, I've been nominated for a Twilight Award...thingy. Here's the message I recieved:

_Congratulations! This story has been nominated in in "The Breaking Dawn Round" of The Twilight Awards for the following categories:_

__

Best Alternate Breaking Dawn

I put this in my 23rd chapter because I didn't want to waste more chapter space, so most of you won't have seen it, but...there it is.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go stick my hands in the freezer...

Oh, and the pregnant woman is not random...she has a purpose.

* * *

**To: ecullen  
From: bellaismagnificent  
Date: August 2 – 10:14PM  
Subject: I hate the Opera**

FAMINE, FLOOD, FIRE, PLAGUE, HURRICANES, TSUNAMIS, NUCLEAR EXPLOSIONS, THE APOCALYPSE, LAWYERS, SCURVY, BROCCOLI.

**To: bellaismagnificent  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 2 – 10:20PM  
****Subject: Re: I hate the Opera**

I'm going to take a wild guess and say…a list of all the things you'd rather be suffering through than traveling with Alice?

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaismagnificent  
****Date: August 2 – 10:29PM  
****Subject: Re: I hate the Opera**

You are good! Yes, it seems that Alice has a new pastime, a new, horrifying, mind-numbing hobby.

It started at about nine o'clock last night while Alice had me locked inside our hotel room. It's one of those high class, "finest Belgian chocolate on your pillow" monstrosities that tries to smother its interior big business core beneath the carefully crafted façade of a cozy, Little Italian inn. Basically, the kind of hotel that assures traveling business tycoons that it's okay not to feel guilty about never leaving their rooms because they've already experienced the "real" Italy. You half expect there to be some pudgy Italian Mama with forty-two children stirring up vats of spaghetti in the kitchen.

Our suite has two rooms, one connecting bathroom, and a common room replete with antique furniture and vases bursting with fresh flowers that don't smell quite like flowers, which, together with the patter of rain on the windows and the chemical undertone of cleaning products gives the whole place the crooked ambiance of a mental hospital.

Anyway, in front of the discreetly hidden TV (placed inside an antique-looking cabinet that might have come out of someone's great-grandmother's attic, but was more likely from Pottery Barn or something) is a petite old-fashioned sofa upholstered in pale pink where I sat looking like someone had whomped me over the head with a make-over stick. Alice had wanted a girl's night in complete with nail painting, girlie magazines with phrases like "101 Different Ways to Tickle His Pickle" on the cover, and sappy black-and-white movies that make you want to be violently ill.

And I, being the sad, pathetic little schmo that I am, agreed.

So there I sat with big fat rollers clipped into my hair, my feet propped up on the coffee table, my freshly painted toes separated by cotton balls, wearing one of Alice's I-don't-know-what's-in-it-but-it's-good-for-your-skin face masks in a not-very-reassuring shade of brownish-green.

Half of my attention was focused on the television screen where a fast-paced Italian soap opera was playing out and the other half was trying to decipher the ingredients of my face mask through smell and feel alone. I had just decided that the slight burning sensation starting in my cheeks was the cause of either mint or cyanide when Alice came bursting through the bathroom door and shouted "Opera!"

Now, you can't really appreciate just how ludicrous this scene was unless you can visualize it properly, so let me see if I can break it down for you:

First, there was me: Sitting on the couch in an oversized hotel bathrobe looking like I'd walked through a beauty salon blindfolded and going cross-eyed trying see if my face mask was more brown or green. On the table in front of me was a martini glass full of blood that I hadn't yet touched because, let's face it, only Alice could come up with something as stupid as a Blood Cocktail and not look like a complete jackass drinking it. It was tempting, but every time I picked it up I felt like some kind of extra on a weird vampire parody of Sex and the City.

And then there was Alice: Standing in the doorway in her own circus-tent-sized bathrobe that she'd rolled the sleeves of over at least six times, wearing a giant pink silk shower cap (and don't hold back when you image that because trust me, this thing was ALL-ENCOMPASSING; courtesy of Cielo Hotels) over one of her all-natural hair concoctions with a wet towel in one hand and a banana in the other (no doubt on its way to being sacrificed to another of her face masks).

Now just drink that image in for a minute.

Can you understand now why I didn't reply at first? I was too busy snorting and choking.

Alice ignored that and came charging across the room, crawling up onto the couch beside me and dropping the towel on the coffee table.

"Bella," she said eagerly, muting the TV. She sat up on her knees and faced me. "Bella, listen!"

She waited until my giggles subsided and then said, "I've had an idea—"

I cut her off with what I liked to think was an award-winning agonized groan of absolute misery, with just a hint of "WHY ME?" thrown into the mix. My standard reaction whenever Alice starts in on one of her "ideas".

"Hey!" Alice snapped, brandishing the banana menacingly. "You can either listen to my plan or have your eyebrows done. Which will it be?" She cocked her head, as if waiting to hear my decision.

I sighed heavily, but focused my attention completely on her. "Fine. Speak."

"Okay," she said, smiling jovially and (thankfully) putting down the banana. "I was in the bathroom and I was thinking, We're here in Italy, one of the most beautiful, fashionable, exciting cities in the world, we don't sleep, and the night is just beginning. So what are we doing inside?"

"This was your idea," I inserted carefully, gesturing toward my toes which were stretched grotesquely apart by Alice's cotton balls and painted a ridiculous shade of hot pink.

Alice mowed right over me. "And then I kept thinking and I realized that we haven't truly experienced any of the real entertainments of Europe. We should be out there enjoying the culture and not just their museums or their fashion shows—"

"_Also_ your idea," I practically shouted, throwing my hands up in exasperation.

"Do you want me to get violent?" she demanded hotly. "Because this banana has many uses and not all of them are nutritional."

I have to tell you that I have never before in my life been threatened with any of the four food groups and can't say I take well to it.

When she was sure I was going to remain quiet (after I'd pantomimed zipping my lips, locking them shut, and demolishing the key into dust in the palm of my hand, Superman-style) she went on with her semi-lucid ramblings. "We should be out there—" She made a wide, graceful gesture toward one of the tall, curtain-covered windows along the far wall. "We should be out dancing in some underground nightclub or seeing a famous play. We should stop taking trains everywhere and…and…and hitchhike!"

I stared at her blankly, wondering if the fumes from her face masks had seeped into her brain and started melting vital connections between the part of her mind that held common sense and the part that was in charge of her mouth.

"Alice," I said slowly. "We had to pay 325 dollars in extra baggage fees on the flight here for your luggage alone. What do you suggest we catch a ride in? A moving van? A Mack truck?"

Alice seemed to deflate slightly. "Oh. Right. Well, maybe I am getting a bit carried away with the hitchhiking, but I was in the bathroom just now and there was this pamphlet recommending different attractions and it turns out that there's a showing of one of my favorite operas at a theatre not too far from here. I haven't seen it in such a long time and I really, really want to go! It would be so much fun and you'd love it, I just know you would! We could get a seat in a private box as far away from the audience as possible so you won't have too much of a hard time staying in control. And if you'd just drink your Blood Cocktail and stop ogling it—"

"Okay!" I interrupted, exasperated. I got the feeling that she wouldn't stop until I _made_ her stop. "Fine, we can go!"

Alice clapped her hands together and then pulled me into a tight hug that smeared part of my face mask off on the shoulder of her robe. Examining it, I realized that it had gone from green-brown to completely brown.

Blech.

"The curtain opens at ten-thirty, so we'll have to dress quickly," Alice was suddenly chattering from somewhere in her room. "We'll need to finish doing your hair, and find something in that mess you call a suitcase that you can wear in polite society. For God's sake take off that robe and wash that gunk off your face! Your make-up will be hard enough to do without—"

"Alice," I called calmly from the couch, "do you even have tickets?"

She poked her head out past her door frame. "Of course I don't! I haven't had time!" She disappeared again, looking exasperated with my simple mind.

Because expecting to have tickets to the show you're going to see is obviously a simpleton's theory.

Oh, wait, no. It's just common sense.

But soon I figured out that Alice had a super-high-intelligence plan to obtain last-minute tickets: call everyone from the hotel's concierge to the owner of the theatre and harangue endlessly until they surrendered.

And so, an hour later we stepped out onto the street, our umbrellas poised against the slight drizzle of rain as we headed toward the theatre.

As we walked, I kept glancing down at my feet, and staring in wonder as they seemed to float across the ground of their own accord, skillfully side-stepping ruts and uneven cobblestones as if they had a mind of their own. It amazed me how absolutely certain I was about every step, how, in each hundredth of a second before my foot touched the pavement, I could take note of every crack and crevice in the ground beneath me, and could pinpoint the exact location where it should land.

"Bella, stop that!" Alice snapped, glancing over and seeing that I'd lifted the hem of my dress halfway up my thighs trying to get a clear view of my amazing feet. "You'll cause an accident."

I looked at her curiously and finally noticed that every male on both sides of the street and a few who were driving by had stopped to gawk at my legs. One man ran into a telephone pole he was staring so hard and a guy on a bicycle—too busy ogling me to notice the fallen pedestrian—ran right over his legs.

I hurriedly dropped my dress.

"Sorry," I murmured sheepishly.

"And do you have to wear those?" she asked, frowning at my sunglasses. "It's the middle of the night. Besides, they throw off you entire outfit."

"But my eyes are orange," I reminded her absently, staring mesmerized as I passed under a streetlight and saw straight through the white light to the rainbow of colors beyond and finally to the small web of wires that were giving off heat inside. The bulb had ten little cracks in it. I counted them all in under a quarter of a second.

She sighed. "I suppose you're right." With one more forlorn glance in my direction, she lapsed into silence.

The theatre was five streets east of the hotel and, walking at a human pace, we managed to get there in just under twenty minutes. As we approached, the small groups of well-dressed people hovering outside the expansive theatre doors, chatting, paused in their conversations and stared—some of them open-mouthed.

Suddenly I wished I was Alice's size so that I could duck behind her. But I wasn't, and so I had to endure their heavy gazes as I followed behind Alice, who strode under the wide arched entrance and into the foyer as if she were a foreign queen gifting the people of Italy with her presence.

She handed our tickets over at a small, ornate booth behind which a bored-looking woman sat. She smiled tightly and wished us a "fantastic evening", but I noticed the sharp hints of envy in her dark eyes.

We hurried through another set of doors and suddenly were in a vast room with a ceiling at least forty feet high, covered in intricate carvings and patterns and chandeliers that cast twenty-million rainbows around the room—rainbows only Alice and I could probably see. The floor was carpeted in a deep, plushy blood-red, the same color as the soft cushioned chairs that had been placed strategically around the room. Every twenty feet along the walls were large wooden columns and paintings that were most likely not the cheap knock-offs that most of our hotels sported.

"Wow," I breathed, marveling.

My marveling stopped pretty suddenly when it was interrupted by the sound of a woman shouting in Italian. I turned and spotted her, standing by the large circular staircase, heavily pregnant and encased in a deep blue sheath dress—screaming at the top of her lungs at a terrified-looking mustachioed man.

"Just say it, Theondre!" she was crying shrilly. "You think I'm fat don't you? Don't you?!"

Theondre, looking as if he were performing a delicate operation that, if botched, could kill _him_, said gently, "No, no, of course not, sweetheart! I simply meant that perhaps you could just let one of the ushers and myself help you up the stairs. It's quite a long way and I don't want you to fall and hurt yourself—"

"Don't pretend!" she shouted, enraged. "You think I'm grotesque and hideous! You think I'm…I'm…"

The woman—quite abruptly—burst into gut-wrenching tears.

"Yeesh," Alice said.

"Pretty much," I agreed.

An usher came out of a set of double doors on the left and announced that the curtain would open in ten minutes, and that all audience members should make their ways to their seats.

"We'd better go," Alice said. "Our box is upstairs and if we go at a human pace it'll take us about…" she glanced at her tiny silver watch, which looked like an identity bracelet in disguise "…ten years to get to it."

As we made our way up the staircase (passing by the pregnant woman who was determinedly climbing the stairs with no assistance save the hand rail, while her husband and a handful of anxious ushers looked on), Alice chattered and I—

Well, alright, I'll tell you this only if you promise not to let it go to your head. I don't want to come home and find out you're dead because your ego grew so big it exploded.

So, I thought of you. I'll admit it: I miss you.

A _little_ bit.

And I'll admit also that I continued to think about you as we reached the top of the main staircase and turned right, through a dimly lit hallway and up an even narrower flight of carpeted stairs. I thought about you when we (finally) found our box and looked down onto the stage. And I thought about you pretty much all through the play.

But don't get too excited. I thought about Emmett too at one point, though it was only because this big guy in the crowd below us let out a very Emmett-like bellowing laugh in the middle of an important scene and got shushed by the tiny, decrepit woman beside him.

So after all of the screaming and dancing I dragged myself back to the hotel amidst Alice's endless stream of gabble and watched more Italian soap operas. The good kind of operas without all the singing.

And do you want to know where I am now?

Go ahead. Guess.

**To: bellaismagnificent  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 2 – 10:41PM  
****Subject: Re: I hate the Opera**

I'm almost afraid to ask, but…where?

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaismagnificent  
****Date: August 2 – 10:44PM  
****Subject: Re: I hate the Opera**

The ballet.

That's right. Tall twiggy girls with angles where their curves should be, hopping around in tights and tutus. And I'm supposed to get it.

It's like a fashion show with several pounds of tulle.

We're moving on to Switzerland NOW.

Wait, you don't think they have opera _there_ do you? CAN YOU SENSE MY DESPERATION?

Bella

* * *

**FRANZEN SCHOOL OF BALLET—WISH YOU WERE HERE!**

**August 2**

_I love the theatre! It's all so beautiful, so magical, so graceful! And do you know what would be the only thing that might make it better? If your wife didn't sit beside me every night looking as if she just swallowed a jellyfish whole. If you don't talk to her and make her have a good time, so help me I'm shipping her home in one of my suitcases and finishing the trip by myself. And I really don't want to have to do that because…well, Bella wouldn't want to talk to me ever again and that would be sad. Anyway, we are NOT giving up on Italy a day early the way Bella keeps suggesting. Hopefully, I'll be able to find something she'll like…something like touring a library and listening to some stuffy old guy in a sweater vest ramble on and on about the history of the Dewey Decimal System. Oh, the fun we'll have._

_Sincerely,_

_Alice_

* * *

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaismagnificent  
****Date: August 3 – 8:10AM  
****Subject: Hallelujah!**

Finally! Today is our last day in Italy (as I'm sure you know). Alice refused to leave early, despite my dignified requests.

…Okay, plaintive and incessant whining.

She insisted that, if I just gave it a chance, I'd have a great time.

May I just say how much I highly doubt that? A battalion of doctors armed with defibrillators couldn't pump life back into this hellish vacation. I left that part out when I was talking to Alice, though. I mean, she did try to plan out a good time.

The fact that she failed so miserably isn't something I want to rub in her face.

Anyway, we're heading out now. Alice won't tell me where we're going—she says it's a surprise.

Which means we'll be knee-deep in Versace by noon.

Wish me luck,

Bella

**To: bellaismagnificent  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 3 – 8:17AM  
****Subject: Re: Hallelujah!**

Your duck has eaten six pages out of my book of 15th century paintings. He's eaten the head off of every Mary in every painting of the Annunciation. As it turns out, she's kind of significant.

Permission to kill the duck?

Edward

P.S. Luck.

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaismagnificent  
****Date: August 3 – 9:06AM  
****Subject: I'm running away with a boy named...David.**

I don't believe it. Alice has actually done something not-completely insane.

Guess where we are right now. Guess!

Oh, and no you may not kill my duck. Lock him in Emmett's room or something.

**To: bellaismagnificent  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 3 – 9:14AM  
****Subject: Re: I'm running away with a boy named...David.**

I'm a little preoccupied trying to pry my translations out of your overgrown pigeon's mouth.

But since your subject line worries me, please, feel free to just tell me.

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaismagnificent  
****Date: August 3 – 9:23AM  
****Subject: Re: I'm running away with a boy named...David.**

Florence! I'm sitting directly across from Michelangelo's David! It's…it's just…AMAZING! You can actually _see_ the veins under his skin.

Michelangelo was a genius. Pure, artistic genius.

And Alice says that all of today is going to be spent touring different parts of the city and viewing famous paintings, sculptures, frescoes, and—Oh! She says that we can stop by the…well, why bother? You're probably too busy pounding Paddy over the head with a TV Guide to pay this e-mail any attention aren't you?

Ah, well. I'll leave you to it and talk to you later.

Love,

Bella

P.S. Seriously, don't kill him. Try dangling one of my socks in front of him and luring him into the bathroom.

* * *

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaismagnificent  
****Date: August 4 – 11:14AM  
****Subject: Something's not quite right here**

****

**Location: I'd need an extra tongue and a hell of a lot more phlegm to even try and pronounce it…**

Stuck somewhere in Sausage-and-Yodeling-borg, trundling through quaint Swiss streets on a bus full of tourists who talk in a language that's basically a series of gurgling and choking noises. It's actually kind of scenic, and it would be perfect—if it weren't for this enormous German family sitting near us; the grandmother has nodded off beside me and is alternately drooling and snoring on my shoulder, there are about four small children running around screaming, with chocolate and other unidentifiable substances smeared all over their mouths, and at least five of the seven older boys (brothers, I assume) have tried to look down my top.

Oh, and now one of the butterball children has hopped up onto the seat beside me and—from what little I understand of the German language—is asking me where I bought my breasts.

I really hope I translated that wrong. I'll ask Alice.

Speaking of which, we've been touring all day and passing all sorts of cute little shops and Alice hasn't once tried to jump off the bus and reduce them to smoking piles of empty hangers and rubble with her Mighty Mastercard.

I have to say, I'm getting a little bit frightened. Is she sick, do you think?

**To: bellaismagnificent  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 4 – 11:25AM  
****Subject: Re: Something's not quite right here**

I don't know. Wait a moment…

Jasper says to watch and see if her hands clench as you pass by these stores.

It seems like sound advice.

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaismagnificent  
****Date: August 4 – 11:31AM  
****Subject: Re: Something's not quite right here**

Okay. I'll check…

Wait…wait…yes! Yes, she did! It was only a tiny twitch and I probably wouldn't have noticed if I wasn't looking for it, but her hands definitely clenched.

Why? Is that bad?

**To: bellaismagnificent  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 4 – 11:39AM  
****Subject: Re: Something's not quite right here**

Bella, this is Jasper.

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaismagnificent  
****Date: August 4– 11:42AM  
****Subject: Re: Something's not quite right here**

WHAT?!

What does _that_ mean?!

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaismagnificent  
****Date: August 4 – 11:48AM  
****Subject: Re: Something's not quite right here**

Hello? Okay, if someone doesn't tell me what to do and Alice ends up exploding all over the inside of this bus, HEADS WILL ROLL.

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaismagnificent  
****Date: August 4 – 11:54AM  
****Subject: Re: Something's not quite right here**

FIVE FOOT WOMAN POSSESSED BY DEMONIC FORCES SLAYS BUSLOAD OF TOURISTS OUTSIDE "RICHTENSCHTEIN RETAIL"!

Do you want that to be tomorrow's newspaper headline? If not, I highly suggest you reply within the next five minutes.

I'll wait.

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaismagnificent  
****Date: August 4 – 12:06PM  
****Subject: Re: Something's not quite right here**

Oh, you are so sleeping on the couch when I get home.

* * *

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaismagnificent  
****Date: August 8 – 7:15AM  
****Subject: Are we going in circles?**

**Location: Vatican City**

You know what I'd like to know? How exactly did we end up back in Italy? I could have sworn we said _arrivaderci_ to this place hours ago. Yet somehow, I'm back.

Alice says it's because you have to experience Vatican City all by itself, since it's technically its own country.

So here we are. Back in Italy, whether she'll admit it or not.

I think we're going in circles. It is NOT a pleasant feeling.

And speaking of unpleasant feelings, I haven't heard from you in a while. I had to get through three days in Germany without you! Do you know what the German language sounds like? Phlegm and choking, that's what.

Write me back so I can make fun of Romania with you. I realize that poking fun at other people's cultures wasn't the point of our vacation, but it's an added bonus when you're feeling as ill-tempered as I am right now.

Bella

* * *

**BELLA'S WEEKLY CORRESPONDENCE**

Dear Carlisle,

It was great getting your letter. It's nice to know that someone sane is at least trying to keep Annie from eating Paddy while I'm away. We're having a spectacular time here. Yes, Alice is feeding me on a regular basis, and no, I haven't attacked any small, unsuspecting children. Alice and I took a midnight trip down to Northern Africa and I got to try lion and zebra. You're right—zebra is surprisingly sweet. I'll write again soon.

Love,

Bella

P.S. I'm not sure what you mean by "unnatural" but let me just explain that when I told Edward I'd "tripped" over my bags at the airport, I didn't mean I'd actually _tripped_. I meant that I'd been hurrying to stop Alice from opening one of my suitcases in the middle of the baggage claim area and checking to see if I'd smuggled in more T-shirts than she'd designated for me, and I accidentally moved a bit too fast and there was no way to stop myself in time to avoid the luggage without freaking out a lot of onlookers, so I ended up with a mouth full of dirty carpet.

So, _technically_ I didn't trip. But it was still all Alice's fault.

--

Dear Esme,

Thanks for all the blood and all of the concern, but I really don't think it would be a good idea "send me a few livestock." While I'm sure you could "pull a few strings and send over a sheep or two" I'm not sure bringing fuzzy animals into our hotel room and saying we misplaced them is going to do much for our cover. At best, the staff will think we're sadists, at worst, worshippers of some sort of bloodthirsty, malevolent god.

So, no, thanks to the livestock. But I miss you too! I hope your orchids start blooming soon. I don't know a thing about gardening, but I'm sure if anyone can motivate a bunch of colorful weeds, it's you.

Love,

Bella

P.S. No, really, you don't need to send anymore blood. Please.

--

Dear Jasper,

You've been with her for a few decades, so maybe you'll know—where exactly is Alice's off-switch located?

Love,

Bella

P.S. Stop telling Edward your pervy sex stories. I don't want to come home to a hollow shell of a husband.

--

Dear Rosalie,

It's kind of you to offer, but at present, I don't think it's entirely necessary for you to "belt Emmett and make him quit bothering me."

I'll keep the offer in mind though; I'll probably need it soon.

Love,

Bella

--

Dear Emmett,

You are on such thin ice right now. If I come back and find out you've been bugging Edward, I'll make you swallow the Juneau Phonebook.

Trust me, I'm still strong enough to do it.

Love,

Bella

--

Dear Annie,

Don't eat Paddy.

Love,

Bella

--

Dear Paddy,

Don't eat Edward's books.

I mean…quack.

Love,

Bella

P.S. I realize that you're a duck and therefore won't be able to read this letter, but I figure at some point Emmett _will_ and thought this might be a good way to reiterate my point: The ENTIRE phone book. Business section and all.

* * *

­**To: mylittlelovepotato  
****From: athimblefulofsunshine  
****Date: August 8 – 10:33PM  
****Subject: I can't feel my shopping hand…**

Four days. FOUR DAYS. That's how long it's been since I've bought _anything_.

We're headed for our villa in Greece now, and I didn't stop at a single store on the way here to try and let Bella enjoy the sights (I even decided not to spend money on a private car and took this horrible, crowded, filthy bus full of screaming children who kept asking Bella if her breast were real). Ironically enough, I don't even think she appreciated it! She was tense the entire time and kept darting me these shifty looks.

And now my fingers are all numb and twitchy from having no platinum in them for such a long time.

I need a hug.

And some new shoes.

But mostly just the hug.

Love,

Alice

P.S. Okay, I really do need the shoes.

­**From: mylittlelovepotato  
****To: athimblefulofsunshine  
****Date: August 8 – 10:39PM  
****Subject: I can't feel my shopping hand…**

Alice:

1. I'm very proud that you went without shopping for so long, but please go out and buy something before you suffer permanent psychological damage.

2. You can have the hug and plenty more when you return.

3. According to your detailed catalogue of all the things you've bought since you first touched down in London (why do you insist on sending it to me, why?), you already have seventeen new pairs of shoes. I believe the limit you set for yourself was twenty. Recall that, if you exceed that limit, you'll have to come home and remove one pair of old shoes for every extra new one you purchase.

4. Emmett and I are in Managua, trying to carouse the melancholy out of Edward. Since you've probably seen most of what we've been up to, I would just like to say that the dance hall wasn't my idea. And pushing him into that back room with that stripper was just a joke.

5. We need to rethink this e-mail address you made for me. I am not, nor have I ever been, nor will I ever be, a potato. Or any other form of vegetable. Change it.

Jasper

­**To: mylittlelovepotato  
****From: athimblefulofsunshine  
****Date: August 8 – 10:44PM  
****Subject: I can't feel my shopping hand…**

Yeah, about that:

1. Does Bella know about your little excursion to South America, or do I get the added pleasure of telling her and watching her blow a bunch of blood vessels I didn't know she had?

2. It's either Love Potato or Schmookiewookiepoo. Your choice. But just some advice: being a vegetable is a lot less emasculating than being something that could very well be a sock puppet on Sesame Street.

Love always,

Alice

* * *

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaismagnificent  
****Date: August 8 – 11:16PM  
****Subject: Hello?ello?llo?lo?o?**

**Location: Malta**

I'm hearing an echo. Could it be because of the cavernous emptiness of my inbox? Considering that the only e-mails I've received in the last four days have been from spam sights and various medical organizations offering to enlarge a piece of anatomy that I, as a female, don't happen to possess, yes, I think it IS.

Where have you gone off to? Has Emmett stolen your computer? Better yet, has he pulled off your hands and hidden them? Because I have to tell you, anything less than being violently mangled by one of your brothers will result in a very long banishment from My Good Side.

And trust me, My Bad Side is a cold, desolate, frozen wasteland that you may never be able to crawl back from.

Can you tell that I'm having oodles and oodles of fun here?

ANSWER ME,

Bella

* * *

**GREECE – WELCOME, FRIENDS!**

**August 10**

_I can't believe I'M the one saying this, but SHE HAS GONE INSANE. Look, I don't know why you refuse to tell me what you're doing in Nicaragua, of all places, but you HAVE to tell Bella. She's gone stark-raving crackers and I don't know how to fix her! Everything annoys her. She's crushed a dozen doorknobs, yelled at several hotel/store/train staff, and put her foot through a coffee table that didn't get out of her way fast enough (which may have been because, well, it was an inanimate object). And the local charm that she's grown so fond of in European countries—and trust me, Greece is chock full of charm—does absolutely nothing for her. We're staying in this adorable white stucco house and one of our elderly neighbors came over today to give us a dish she'd made "to take some of the paleness out of our cheeks". Bella kindly thanked the woman for the food, gently closed the door, sauntered into the kitchen, and slammed the dish down on the table so hard she splintered it down the middle. It went from table to firewood in two seconds flat. _

_I can't fix this. There isn't a Valium big enough. _

_If you don't do something soon, there's going to be a re-creation of Godzilla here in Thessaly._

_Seriously. Do something._

_Alice_

****

--The number you have dialed is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone--

"Edward?"

* * *

**To: bellaismagnificent  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 12 – 12:23PM  
****Subject: Re: Something's not quite right, here**

We're in a secure location.

Your husband is safe.

DON'T CALL HERE AGAIN.

Emmett

P.S. This espionage stuff is great!

P.P.S. Don't forget to tell Alice to bring me back an authentic shrunken head; she promised!

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaismagnificent  
****Date: August 12 – 12:34PM  
****Subject: SHE MUST DIE!**

That's it. You're eating TWO phone books.

And probably the phone too.

**To: bellaismagnificent  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 12 – 12:42PM  
****Subject: Re: Something's not quite right, here**

Now, now. Confucius say: Violence is never the answer.

Emmett

P.S. I think Gandhi said it too. And when was that guy ever wrong?

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaismagnificent  
****Date: August 12 – 12:48PM  
****Subject: SHE MUST DIE!**

AND THE PHONE TABLE.

The more you try to talk your way out, the more phone-related objects you're going to eat.

**To: bellaismagnificent  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 12 – 12:56PM  
****Subject: Re: Something's not quite right, here**

Um…I'll be seein' ya.

* * *

**To: athimblefulofsunshine  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 13 – 2:28PM  
****Subject: Re: Something's not quite right, here**

Tell your crazy friend to stop threatening me. I'm just trying to help out. No one ever appreciates me!

Emmett

P.S. And don't forget my shrunken head. I wanna stick it in one of Rose's handbags when you get back. Don't tell me you're going to pass up a priceless comedy moment like that for something as silly as _morals_.

**To: ecullen  
****From: athimblefulofsunshine  
****Date: August 13 – 2:46 PM  
****Subject: Re: Something's not quite right, here**

Look, I just spent six hours of my well-deserved vacation trudging around a badly-lit Little Shop of Horrors that the Romanians call a "museum" of Renaissance torture devices (and let me tell you, they're playing it fast and loose with the word "museum"), staring at things like The Hook, and The Saw, and The Wheel. Oh, and my personal favorite: a rusty metal contraption that looks a lot like a bunch of corroded fishing hooks strung together and cleverly named The Breast Ripper.

Yeah.

I'll give you one guess what it does.

So, no, I'm not really in the mood to entertain you and I'm definitely not willing to tell the girl who stared at all of these devices in rapt fascination that you're "just trying to help."

Face it. You're eating that phonebook.

Love,

Alice

P.S. Don't worry, I already got it when Bella and I made that day trip to Northern Africa. And I already put it in her backpack. Ah, the look on her face. Good times, good times...

* * *

**--The number you have dialed is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone--**

"EDWARD CULLEN YOU ANSWER YOUR PHONE THIS INSTANT! Edward? I'm not kidding. I'll make you sleep on the couch. I'll make you sleep outside on the front lawn. Under the porch. Edward?!

No! NO! Alice I will not hang up the phone! I'm talking to Edward! So what? It's perfectly okay to talk to your husband's answering machine! No, get away! Stoppit! NO, GIVE IT BA—"

* * *

**--The number you have dialed is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone--**

"Get off of me Alice! Edward? Edward are you there? PICK UP THE PHONE—ALICE, GET OFF MY LEG! I DON'T CARE WHAT EMMETT SAYS, I'M—

Edward? Listen to me, I don't know where you are and even though Emmett says you're safe, well, he's Emmett and I don't believe him one bit. Knowing him, you're in Vegas somewhere in a strip club strapped to a chair. And since you'll probably never get this message anyway, EMMETT, I'm warning you, if you don't get him to call me or e-mail me or contact me in some way in the next twenty-four hours I'm setting Rosalie on you. I know it's below the belt, but I DON'T CARE! There's no one here to tell me how to talk sense into Alice when she does something crazy like suggest hitchhiking or burn my flannels and YES, ALICE, I KNOW YOU BURNED MY FLANNELS!"

--Alice, muffled and distant-- "I AM NOT SORRY!"

--Stifled grunts and shouting--

"Look, I have to go push Alice out of a window, but I'm going to call back in twenty-four hours and I expect Edward to be on the other end of this phone, do you under—GIVE ME BACK THE PHONE!"


	25. Bella?

I updated earlier than usual because I think you guys deserve it, but don't expect it too often--I just happened to have this one almost finished when I posted the last chapter. This is the last of the Europe Chapters.

Special thanks to **yoyoente **who donated her idea to have Edward swim across the Atlantic...I didn't EXACTLY use it, but I figure you deserve credit for that particular slice of comedy.

And I would also like to apologize to **Miss-Blanche-Dubois**, whose laptop computer I seem to be responsible for ruining. Per her request (to avoid further mechanical damage to any of my readers who find themselves having laughing fits with various liquids in their hands), I will insert her recommended warning:

"Put the tea cup down and continue reading this on a desktop computer as opposed to a laptop where all the machinery is under the keyboard where tea is likely to leak in the event of a seizure."

See. I'm always happy to oblige.

* * *

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 15 – 5:04AM  
****Subject: You have ten minutes. **

Okay. It's been twenty-four hours. I know I said I'd call you, but, well…Alice and I had a bit of a…_disagreement_ yesterday and pretty much every phone in the hotel room (and a few major appliances that the hotel is making us pay for) got demolished, including Alice's cell phone, which I may have rolled over in the scuffle.

But the point is, I expect to have a reply from Edward in ten minutes. And _not_ one of Emmett's burning-loin facsimiles, either, but an _actual_ message from my _actual_ husband.

I'm waiting.

**To: bellaswan  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 15 – 5:09AM  
****Subject: Re: You have ten minutes. **

Bella. It's Edward.

How are you? _Where_ are you? I've memorized your itinerary, but I can't be sure that you're where you say you are since it's you and Alice, and you two keep arguing and changing your schedule.

I'm sorry I haven't replied to any of your e-mails or messages. I wanted to, trust me, but Emmett took away my laptop (I've been borrowing Rosalie's since you've attached yourself to mine) _and_ my phone. They held me down and made me watch more war movies.

They seem to think the only reason I was so melancholy was because I didn't have enough distractions.

Now that I'm here, though, and have something else to concentrate on, I think I'm feeling a bit better. It's good for me, having something else to do. I still miss you (very, very much, in fact) but it's no longer the only thing I can think about.

But how are you doing? How was Greece? And Romania? I'm sure you'll have lots to tell me about that.

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 15 – 5:14AM  
****Subject: Re: You have ten minutes. **

…I don't believe it. I want the real Edward and want him _now_.

**To: bellaswan  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 15 – 5:22AM  
****Subject: Re: You have ten minutes. **

Bella…it really _is_ me.

Emmett's only given me thirty minutes on the computer, though, so I'll have to be quick.

I feel very much as if I'm in prison.

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 15 – 5:26AM  
****Subject: Re: You have ten minutes. **

Sorry, I'm jus no buying i. Emme or Jasper or whoever his is, you are NO my Edward and if he's no on his compuer in five minues I'm calling Rosalie.

**To: bellaswan  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 15 – 5:32AM  
****Subject: Re: You have ten minutes. **

Um...I'm sorry?

**To: ecullen  
From: bellaswan  
Date: August 15 – 5:58AM  
Subject: Re: You have ten minutes. **

Sorry, my supressed rage made me put my finger through the "T" key. Luckily for you Alice has fixed it and there's no lasting damage or I'd rip the "T" section out of every phonebook in the greater Alaska area and make you eat that too.

What I said was:

Sorry, I'm just not buying it. Emmett or Jasper or whoever this is, you are NOT my Edward and if he's not on this computer in five minutes I'm calling Rosalie.

And I mean it!

**To: bellaswan  
From: ecullen  
Date: August 15 – 6:04AM  
Subject: Re: You have ten minutes.**

Bella, please! How can I make you believe me? It _truly is me_!

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 15 – 6:06AM  
****Subject: Re: You have ten minutes. **

I've dialed the first three numbers!

**To: bellaswan  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 15 – 6:12AM  
****Subject: Re: You have ten minutes. **

FINE! I'll put him on.

Okay, Jasper's going to untie him. While we're waiting, can I just ask, what gave me away? I thought I did a pretty good job of imitating Edward's I'm-not-hopelessly-whipped-I'm just-_concerned_ attitude.

And by the way, I resent having my heartfelt e-mail called a "burning-loin facsimile." I worked very hard on that! Was it the word burning? Would you have preferred I say "my loins are aflame at the thought of you"? Because I considered that, but it just didn't have the right feel to it.

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 15 – 6:16AM  
****Subject: Re: You have ten minutes. **

I would actually prefer if you didn't make any reference to your loins at all, burning or otherwise.

And what do you mean you're having Jasper untie him? _What have you done?!_

**To: bellaswan  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 15 – 6:21AM  
Subject: Re: You have ten minutes. **

Oh, we just knotted his arms up in some of those faded pajamas you wear to bed sometimes. We figured he wouldn't want to rip those and we were right. His disgusting sentimentality was actually useful for a change. Who'd'a thunk?

But while we're on the subject: footie pajamas? Really? Come on, Bella, how old are you, six?

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 15 – 6:24AM  
****Subject: Re: You have ten minutes. **

Do you really want to push that button?

**To: bellaswan  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 15 – 6:27AM  
Subject: Re: You have ten minutes. **

Right. Sorry. Oh, Edward's coming and—

Oh. That's not a happy face.

Look, Bella, I'm going to have to haul ass in a minute or be in a very severe amount of pain, so it was nice talking to and I'm going to go hide in the closet and cover my important bits. I'll talk to you later.

* * *

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 23 – 8:32PM  
****Subject: I'm cured!...kind of.**

**Location: Sweden**

Alright. After eight days of severe Edward therapy I think I can start to recuperate.

But don't you ever do that to me again.

**To: bellaswan  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 23 – 8:39PM  
****Subject: Re: I'm cured!...kind of.**

It was hardly my choice.

And it's good to know you're feeling better. I, for one, won't be able to fully recover until you're home where I can see you  
and smell you and…well, I'll save the indecent comments for when we're in the privacy of our own bedroom.

But believe me, I've had endless hours alone with my own thoughts to think up all the various ungentlemanly things I'd like to do with you.

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 23 – 8:47PM  
****Subject: Re: I'm cured!...kind of.**

Aw, that's so sweet. Luckily this trip is almost over so just hold those thoughts and I'll be home as soon as I possibly can. Today we're in Sweden, but we're heading off to Finland tomorrow and then, _finally_, Russia. Of course, I still refuse to agree with Alice that Russia is a "logical stopping point in our journey, not only for its historical value, but for the country's exquisite fundamental retail facilities."

Translation: Because the shopping's good.

I'm going anyway though, because, hell, it's Russia.

One thing I've been meaning to mention. Ever since we left Thessaly Alice has taken a very keen interest in my education on all things European. She keeps sending me off to these different museums and libraries every night and on midnight tours of historical villages. Meanwhile, she goes shopping.

At first, I thought, _Great. I don't have to try on anymore brillopad sweaters or pointy heels of DOOM AND DESPAIR_ (I am not exaggerating, those boots she made me wear had pitchforks for heels).

But the other night, when I suggested that I go with her—I didn't want her to feel like I hated spending time with her; I just hate spending time shouting at her over dressing room walls—she seemed almost violently opposed to the idea. Now I'm starting to wonder if there's another reason why she doesn't want me around at night.

Hey, you don't think she's having an affair, do you?

Ooh, intrigue!

Love and kisses and hugs (etc.),

Bella

**To: bellaswan  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 23 – 8:51PM  
****Subject: Re: I'm cured!...kind of.**

I highly doubt that Alice is engaging in adultery, no matter how suspiciously she might be behaving. Why don't you just try asking her why she doesn't want you to go with her? I'm sure she'll explain and get it all out in the open and it will be something completely silly.

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 23 – 8:56PM  
****Subject: Re: I'm cured!...kind of.**

Mmm…nah. I think I'll just follow her, instead. Much more fun that way.

**To: bellaswan  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 23 – 8:59PM  
****Subject: Re: I'm cured!...kind of.**

Giving you suggestions is quite startlingly similar to talking to my bookshelf. I'd have just as much influence then as I do now.

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 23 – 9:04PM  
****Subject: Re: I'm cured!...kind of.**

Oh, you know I love you, and your wonderful advice, it's just—Crap! She's leaving! Gotta go!

* * *

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 23 – 11:16PM  
****Subject: Alice's dingy little secret**

I'm feeling a bit dazed. I almost can't believe it's true. It's just so…so unexpected. I just didn't see…not in my wildest imaginings…

WOW.

**To: bellaswan  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 23 – 11:22PM  
****Subject: Re: Alice's dingy little secret**

What on earth is the matter? Is Alice living a double life? Does she own twenty Swedish orphans? Is she secretly a man?

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 23 – 11:30PM  
****Subject: Re: Alice's dingy little secret**

She…she…Alice…she…

ALICE.

SHOPS.

AT THRIFT STORES.

**To: bellaswan  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 23– 11:34PM  
****Subject: Re: Alice's dingy little secret**

Beg pardon?

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 23 – 11:43PM  
****Subject: Re: Alice's dingy little secret**

THRIFT STORES! I caught her out! I followed her down about twenty alleys and into some shop beneath a used video game store and there she was, digging through a bargain bin.

I thought my eyes were going to pop out of my skull. I was so startled I actually sucked in one of those classic soap opera "you're not my husband, you're his evil twin Hans!" gasps of shock.

Alice looked like she'd been caught _in_ _flagrante delicto_, instead of bargain shopping like a sane person.

"Um, this…this isn't what it looks like!" she said earnestly, hurrying toward me with a huge, knit, cream sweater in her hands.

"Oh, really?" I said, crossing my arms and trying my best to look scandalized, even though I was finding the whole situation positively laughable.

"I'm just…I was just…" she petered out, looking sheepish.

"Spit it out, Alice," I demanded, then added, "If that is, in fact, your real name."

Alice rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay. I was buying clothes. But I wasn't buying anything to wear in public. I come to places like this to get clothes I can wear at home and _only_ at home. You know, when I'm in my room with Jasper and I don't want to wear my good clothes. You didn't think I wore Gucci twenty-four-seven did you?"

I chose not to mention that, actually, I had.

She held up the sweater. "I wear stuff like this. It's comfortable and practical and, okay, it smells a bit like old woman, but I usually wash everything about twelve times before I actually put it on."

I blinked down at her. "You shop at these stores…often?"

She nodded.

"And those big empty suitcases you brought with you to hold your shopping. Those are half filled with…things like this?" I prodded the sweater, which did, now that I noticed it, smell very heavily of old person.

"I wouldn't say half," Alice clarified. "Maybe just…a quarter."

"And you didn't want me to find out about this because…?"

Alice sighed mournfully. "I didn't want you to lose respect for me. But now that you know, I guess there's nothing I can do to salvage my reputation, is there?"

I had to bite my lip to stop from bursting into manic laughter. She was actually serious.

"Alice," I said slowly. "I think this is great."

She glanced up at me with such a comical look of relief on her face that I was afraid I might collapse in hysterics.

"You…you don't think I'm crazy?"

"Crazy?" I asked incredulous. "Alice, I can honestly say that I'm more sure of your sanity right now than I have been in months. _Months_ and months. Pretty much ever since I met you." I gazed around the store for a moment, taking in the racks of weird clothes made out of weird fabrics and covered in weird designs, along with the very weird-looking cashier standing behind the counter, wearing too much purple eye make-up, reading a magazine that was six years old, and chain-smoking. "Okay, I can't believe I'm saying this, but…let's shop."

Alice's eyes widened for about a fifth of second before she grabbed my arm in a grip like a vice and practically shoved me headfirst into the bin of sweaters she'd been scrounging through. "This is so exciting!" she squealed, after ordering me to start digging. "It only took two years and a constant supply of fashion trivia, but I've finally, _finally_, managed to pass something on to you!" She sighed wistfully. "Today, a dingy thrift store in Sweden, tomorrow, Saks Fifth Avenue."

I can hardly contain myself.

On the plus side, I managed to find a nice cozy sweater (that, albeit, smelled as if the previous owner had worn it since they'd popped out of the womb, but Alice assures me the smell will come out) and I made sure to get lots and lots of flannels, just for the comic effect of seeing the face Alice made when I presented them to her.

Imagine it, though. Alice shopping at a thrift store. It's amazing.

The world suddenly looks different somehow…

**To: bellaswan  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 23 – 11:55PM  
****Subject: Re: Alice's dingy little secret**

That _is_ fascinating and I'm very glad you found a new sweater because Annie's torn both arms off your favorite blue one and Paddy's eaten part of the collar.

Best of all, Emmett taught Annie how to say, "Bow to me, mortal" in twenty-six different languages.

I think he's grooming her to take over the world and enslave the human race.

The scariest part: She could very well succeed.

* * *

**FINLAND**

**August 25**

_This postcard is as bland and boring as my stay here. What do the Finnish do all day? We passed one shop the entire time we were here and it was selling some sort of knit stockings in various unflattering fluorescent shades. I need to get out of here. On a more positive note, Bella and I did end up meeting a Norwegian supermodel and hardcore feminist (an oxymoron if I ever heard one, but to each her own) who was surprisingly knowledgeable. She knows about seven languages and quite a few dialects and she taught us how to say "I will smite your man-parts!" in Swahili. That ought to come in handy._

_Alice_

**--**

**To: athimblefulofsunshine  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 25 – 6:26PM  
****Subject: Um...ouch?**

Remind me to stay firmly on your good side.

* * *

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 26 – 9:23PM  
****Subject: SHE MUST DIE!  
****  
Location: Hell if I know.**

We're lost. I blame Alice.

I'm pushing her off a glacier, and you can't stop me.

**To: bellaswan  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 26 – 9:27PM  
****Subject: Re: SHE MUST DIE!**

Lost? What do you mean lost? Did you take a wrong turn or is it more like you have no idea what country you're in?

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 26 – 9:36PM  
****Subject: Re: SHE MUST DIE!**

Oh, I know what country we're in. Russia. Not very reassuring though, seeing as Russia is over six-million miles.

But that doesn't matter. Alice dragged me onto a train and was so preoccupied with a copy of British Vogue she'd found on an empty seat that she wasn't paying attention and we missed our stop.

By about twenty miles if Alice's estimation is correct. But of course, she wouldn't admit she'd gotten it wrong and insisted that the barren, desolate stop we got off at was, in fact, exactly where we should be. So we went off toward this teeny ghost town about two miles out and asked directions from a homeless guy with about four teeth sitting outside a dingy old bar slopping something from a bottle all over his front as he made wobbly attempts to pour it into his mouth. The guy shouted some very rude things at us in broken Russian and then promptly passed out.

So Alice dragged us further through the town and out onto an empty road lined by nothing but corn and the occasional rundown barn. It was all misty and gray and quiet. I felt like I was in a horror movie and the Children of the Corn were going to pop out any minute holding scythes and pitchforks.

It was hard to remember that I was invincible when my bite-sized sister-in-law and I were all alone on an abandoned road that was growing steadily darker and steadily more empty of both cars, people, and any others signs of life.

And, sometime around eight o' clock, when we'd come across absolutely nothing but endless corn and one broken-down truck that looked like it had been there awhile, and when it was good and pitch black, Alice finally turned to me and said, "Okay. Don't panic. But I think we're lost."

"Oh, really," I asked, pretending to be aghast at this clever discovery of hers. "When did you figure that out? Was it back at that patch of corn? Or maybe before that at that other patch of corn? Or do you have corn in your ears and couldn't hear me say for the past three hours, "Hey Alice, I THINK WE'RE LOST"?"

Alice blinked at me, slowly. "Okay, I'm sensing some minor hostility coming from your general direction."

"Are you?" I practically shrieked. "I wonder why that could be?"

"Look," she said, popping her tiny fists up onto her hips. "I swear it all looked really familiar when we got off the train! I know I recognized that big tree with the funny branches that kind of jutted up and I know I've seen that town before. And, you know it's not like I don't know where _we_ are." She gazed around at the vast fields of dead corn and mumbled quietly, "I just don't know where everything _else_ is."

Well, who can argue with that kind of logic?

So here we are, somewhere between Egypt and Syberia, with only Alice's Louis Vuitton carrier bag and my backpack, having sent everything else ahead to our hotel in Moscow.

So I'm pushing Alice off a glacier. It's decided and nothing will stop me.

Except…there don't seem to be very many glaciers around here.

So I guess I'll just have to beat her to death with an ear of corn.

**To: bellaswan  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 26 – 9:45PM  
****Subject: Re: SHE MUST DIE!**

Hello, Bella? This is Jasper. I know you're shunning me and Emmett right now, but just listen for a moment.

Was the truck you saw a really rusty shade of red? And in this town, was the bar called "Vlatnik" something or other?

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 26 – 9:47PM  
****Subject: Re: SHE MUST DIE!**

Have you _been_ here before?!

**To: bellaswan  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 26 – 9:49PM  
****Subject: Re: SHE MUST DIE!**

Yes, and so has Alice. Look, you're in Minsk.

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 26 – 9:52PM  
****Subject: Re: SHE MUST DIE!**

I'm in…come again?

**To: bellaswan  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 26 – 9:55PM  
****Subject: Re: SHE MUST DIE!**

Minsk, woman! M-I-N-S-K, MINSK.

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 26 – 9:56PM  
****Subject: Re: SHE MUST DIE!**

Where the hell is Minsk?!

**To: bellaswan  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 26 – 9:59PM  
****Subject: Re: SHE MUST DIE!**

Nowhere near Moscow.

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 26 – 10:01PM  
****Subject: Re: SHE MUST DIE!**

Are…are we at least still in Russia?

**To: bellaswan  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 26 – 9:10:03PM  
****Subject: Re: SHE MUST DIE!**

Not really. Try Belarus.

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 26 – 10:06PM  
****Subject: Re: SHE MUST DIE!**

Ah. I see. Would you excuse me for a moment?

**To: bellaswan  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 26 – 10:09PM  
****Subject: Re: SHE MUST DIE!**

Bella? What are you doing?

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 26 – 10:13PM  
****Subject: Re: SHE MUST DIE!**

Finding a good-sized ear of corn with which to bludgeon your wife to death. Don't worry, this won't take long.

* * *

**To: ecullen  
****From: bellaswan  
****Date: August 26 – 1:24AM  
****Subject: Minsk? _Seriously_?**

So, apparently, we're in Minsk.

Which just so happens to be the capital of a whole 'nuther country.

The minute Alice heard me say the word "Minsk" her entire face lit up in recognition.

"Now I remember!" she cried, as if she'd just discovered gravity. "It must have been at least twenty years ago, but Jasper and I were here on a sort of second honeymoon and we decided to be spontaneous and do Europe without a map. God, that was fun. We went everywhere and saw everything, but half the time we'd wind up going in circles. And we came to Russia too! We ended up stumbling across this tiny little town on the outskirts of Belarus's capital city and getting completely turned around in this field of corn…" She trailed off at my expression. Clearing her throat she said mildly, "Wow. Quite the coincidence, huh? Ironic, some might say."

"Oh, yes," I said, sarcastically. "And given my life-long hunt for irony, you can imagine my elation."

"Right," she said slowly. "Well. On the bright side, now that I know where we are, I think I can figure out how to get to the city and maybe catch a train." She seemed to gain confidence with each word. "We'll be in Moscow in no time, you'll see. Now grab your backpack, put down that corn—no, seriously, Bella, don't you come any closer with that thing—and we'll get out of here. I am not joking, PUT THE CORN DOWN."

Finally, after much careful negotiation and a lot of violent death threats that, sadly, never came into play, we headed off toward the main part of the city where there is, hopefully, no corn.

We've managed to find civilization and what turns out to be a very ritzy hotel smack in the center of the city. Therefore, Alice is currently still alive and well.

For now.

**To: bellaswan  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 26 – 1:31AM  
****Subject: Re: _Minsk_? Seriously?**

I'll tell Jasper. I'm sure he'll be ecstatic.

* * *

_**ZDRAVSTVUJTYE! HELLO!**_

**August 28**

_Ah, Moscow. I forgot how absolutely beautiful this city is. All of the lights and the people and the houses and, just…ah. Even Bella's in awe. She's been going on long walks through the city every day. She says it's unbelievable and I completely agree because I can't believe the _shopping_! I've seen every store you could imagine and some I've never even heard of with all sorts of strange new styles that I think Bella will absolutely adore because, as fashionable as they are, most of them will go with those hideous tattered sneakers she always wears and still look incredible. That's how amazing they are. She even voluntarily put on a sweater I bought her yesterday and got hit on at least twice as much—and I won't come right out and say it was my outfit that caused it, but…well, it was my outfit that caused it. These Russian men sure are hot-blooded. You really have to witness Bella trying to decline some guy's phone number one day; it's utterly comical. This is the girl who emptied her pockets for a grimy old guy playing guitar with a kitten in his guitar case. He only knew about six cords and he tried to grab her ass as she walked by, but she still gave him all 107 dollars and the handful of nickels she had in her pocket. Can you imagine what she looks like trying to tell some poor, lovestruck youth that she can't accept his protestations of love because she's already taken? One boy threw his arms around her legs and started planting slobbering kisses all over her stomach, promising her "many, many babies" and another burst into tears. She spent a half an hour assuring him that it wasn't because he was hideous and finally agreed to get some ice cream with him to calm him down. Come to think of it…it's lucky she still goes outside at all. _

_Anyway, I have to go. Places to go, designer handbags to see—you know the drill._

_Alice_

* * *

**To: athimbefulofsunshine  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 28 – 4:01PM  
****Subject: Thank you, but no**

I'll pass on the "watching the love of my life get propositioned by burly Russian men" thing, if it's all the same to you. But thank you very much for the offer and the first hand accounts.

I can't tell you how thrilled I am to hear that various homeless old men are feeling up my wife.

You sure know how to brighten someone's day.

Edward

P.S. I didn't know you were allowed to mail two postcards taped together like that. I, personally, would suggest NOT writing me a novel every time you feel the need to correspond, but…

**To: ecullen  
****From: athimbefulofsunshine  
****Date: August 28 – 4:07PM  
****Subject: Re: Thank you, but no**

I'm sensing some sarcasm.

Laced with copious amounts of hostility.

I'll be keeping my correspondences on that matter to myself from now on.

Alice

**To: athimbefulofsunshine  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 28 – 4:14PM  
********Subject: Re: Thank you, but no**

That would be greatly appreciated.

**To: ecullen  
****From: athimbefulofsunshine  
****Date: August 28 – 4:07PM  
********Subject: Re: Thank you, but no**

Hey, while I have you here, do you think you could tell me why exactly you've been lying to Bella? I understand your stupid habit of thinking she's made out of spun sugar, but don't you think she can handle the truth this time?

**To: athimbefulofsunshine  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 28 – 4:14PM  
********Subject: Re: Thank you, but no**

No, and you can't tell her. I'm warning you, Alice, keep it to yourself. I don't like lying to her any more than you do, but it's necessary this time. Let her finish having fun in Europe before she has to come home and deal with things.

Promise me.

**To: ecullen  
****From: athimbefulofsunshine  
****Date: August 28 – 4:07PM  
********Subject: Re: Thank you, but no**

Fine. I will continue to help you mislead your wife even though I know she'll be mad at you for it later and you'll end up feeling terrible for deceiving her and this entire mess could be avoided if you just told her _now_. I'll just keep it all in.

**To: athimbefulofsunshine  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 28 – 4:14PM  
********Subject: Re: Thank you, but no**

Thank you. I appreciate it.

**To: ecullen  
****From: athimbefulofsunshine  
****Date: August 28 – 4:07PM  
********Subject: Re: Thank you, but no**

Suggestion has no effect on you, does it? Ah, well. Do what you feel is best. I'll try to make Bella's last vacation days as fun as possible to lessen the sting of your betrayal.

**To: athimbefulofsunshine  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 28 – 4:14PM  
********Subject: Re: Thank you, but no**

You've been watching soap operas again, haven't you?

**To: ecullen  
****From: athimbefulofsunshine  
****Date: August 28 – 4:07PM  
********Subject: Re: Thank you, but no**

The fact that I have has absolutely nothing to do with my protesting your dishonesty. (Though may I just point out that if you subtract the supernatural vampires and add a homicidal mistress, some designer jeans, and a cop in a coma, your situation would be exactly like the one Skye is in, on _Story Of Her Life?_ But it's just an observation.)

**To: athimbefulofsunshine  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 28 – 4:14PM  
********Subject: Re: Thank you, but no**

Yes, the resemblance truly is uncanny. But for now let's assume that I'm not a character on a trashy daytime soap and do things my way.

**To: ecullen  
****From: athimbefulofsunshine  
****Date: August 28 – 4:07PM  
********Subject: Re: Thank you, but no**

Fine. All I'll say is that, had Renaldo just been honest with Skye, neither of them would have ended up in that underground cavern, fighting for their lives.

**To: athimbefulofsunshine  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 28 – 4:14PM  
********Subject: Re: Thank you, but no**

Alice!

**To: ecullen  
****From: athimbefulofsunshine  
****Date: August 28 – 4:07PM  
********Subject: Re: Thank you, but no**

Alright, alright, I'm shutting off the TV.

Spoilsport…

* * *

**To: bellaismagnificent  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 31 – 6:03PM  
****Subject: Worried**

It feels very strange sending you an e-mail that isn't in reply to a message of your own. You usually send them too rapidly for me to feel the need to begin our conversations. Which brings me to my point:

Are you alright? You haven't written me since you got on the train back to London. I'm starting to worry and Emmett and Jasper are starting to eye me as if they're going to tackle me and tie me up again.

There seems to be some sort of hitch in their brains that makes them think that will help.

It doesn't.

If you're simply busy enjoying yourself, don't mind me. I don't want to interrupt if you and Alice are doing some sisterly bonding. In fact, if that is what you're doing, I would prefer it if you _didn't_ send me a message. I really don't need another list of Alice's shopping finds (underwear included; oh, the horror).

I merely wish to make sure that you're safe.

Love always,

Edward

**To: bellaismagnificent  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 31 – 7:15PM  
****Subject: Still worried**

Has Alice confiscated your laptop again? (My laptop, actually, but I'm not complaining.) If so, Alice, at least send me a message to calm my fears. I can't concentrate on anything and Carlisle's assigned me four-hundred pages to translate. I've already confused the words "phases" and "phallus" twice because of this.

Carlisle was not amused.

Emmett, however, was.

Send me an e-mail, a carrier pigeon, a smoke signal, _anything_.

Edward

**To: bellaismagnificent  
****From: ecullen  
****Date: August 31 – 9:33PM  
****Subject: EXCEEDINGLY NERVOUS**

This is punishment for last week isn't it? I've explained to you that it wasn't my idea, Bella.

Wait...Alice hasn't told you...?

Look, whatever she told you, you have to know that I only had your happiness in mind. I didn't want to spoil your trip with bad news. I'm sorry if you're angry, but could you please at least shout at me or mail me a very graphically violent letter and stop the silent treatment. You're giving me gray hairs.

I'm not kidding.

**To: bellaismagnificent  
From: ecullen  
Date: August 31 – 10:46PM  
Subject: None**

Oh, God, Alice hasn't killed you has she?

* * *

**To: athimblefulofsunshine  
****From: mylittlelovepotato  
****Date: August 31 – 11:10PM  
****Subject: Thought you might want to know**

Hey. Edward's looking kind of…twitchy. And the amount of anxiety I'm picking up from him is making _me_ antsy.

I have a feeling that you have something to do with Bella's silence.

Have you forced her into that pink sweater set? Because I distinctly recall telling you that she would probably resort to self-mutilation and/or suicide if you did.

Oh, jeez, she's killed herself, hasn't she?

* * *

**To: athimblefulofsunshine  
From: theoriginalhulk  
Date: August 31 – 12:14AM  
Subject: The line between funny and Edward putting his foot through my Xbox**

Look, Alice, honey, I believe wholeheartedly in _carpe_-ing the cruel comedy _diem_, but there's a line and I'm pretty sure Edward's crossed it.

More than crossed it.

If I were to paint you a picture of the situation it would be on a world map and Edward would be in Juneau and the line would be...well, probably somewhere in Albania. Or maybe on Mars.

So throw him a bone or something before he straps on his swimming trunks and starts paddling straight for your continent.

Emmett

* * *

**To: athimblefulofsunshine  
****From: arosebyanyothername  
****Date: September 1 – 7:07AM  
****Subject: R and R**

Alright, I've been doing my best to sit back and enjoy the silence with you two gone and Emmett and your idiot husband off in Brazil or wherever the hell they've gone.

But now I'm getting frantic phone calls in the middle of the night from Emmett who keeps shouting things like "Rose, he's lost it, he's absolutely lost it" and "Edward, you can't _swim_ to Europe!"

Now I don't know what exactly you're doing over there in New Zealand or Thailand (where are you supposed to be again?), but if Edward/Emmett/Jasper calls my phone one more time and interrupts my well-earned peace and quiet with anything other than news of the latest European car models, I AM GOING TO RIP YOUR ARMS OFF AND BEAT YOU WITH THEM.

Love,  
Rosalie

P.S. Is Bella really dead? Because that's what I'm getting from all these frenzied conversations.

* * *

**To: athimblefulofsunshine  
****From: ilovebegonias  
****Date: September 1– 3:26PM  
****Subject: ALICE?!**

Alice? ALICE?! Are you alright? What's this I hear about Bella being dead? IS EVERYTHING OKAY??

Esme

* * *

**To: athimblefulofsunshine  
****From: ccullen  
****Date: September1 – 8:43PM  
****Subject: Pandemonium**

Alice, dear, I hate to insinuate that you are less than a responsible adult, but your husband is having a meltdown, your sister keeps shouting at me and generally anyone who makes the mistake of calling her phone, your brother is trying to swim the Atlantic Ocean, and your mother is so nervous and distracted she tried to plant one of my reference books and potted a geranium in my favorite pair of shoes.

For the sake of my sanity (and my shoes) would you please tell _someone_ what's become of Bella?

Sincerely,  
Carlisle

* * *

**To: athimblefulofsunshine  
From: ccullen  
Date: September 1– 8:56PM  
Subject: agjdryhshdddddd**

I em Andndie va DESJOYER!

* * *

**To: athimblefulofsunshine  
From: ccullen  
Date: September 1– 9:08PM  
Subject: Sorry**

Terribly sorry. Annie seems to have been playing with my computer while I was out emptying my shoes.

I'm not sure how she learned to type or e-mail (or who tried to teach her how to spell DESTROYER) but I'm going to venture a guess and pay Emmett a little visit.

But honestly, any contact at all would be welcome.

Sincerely,  
Carlisle

* * *

**To: bellaismagnificent  
****From:ecullen  
****Date: September 2 – 12:03AM  
****Subject: Bella?**

Bella. I am trying very hard to maintain my composure and not come after you, but it's been two days since you've spoken to me and everyone seems to think you're dead and if you don't contact me soon, I really can't promise that you won't wind up on a plane back to Juneau beside a very angry, very wet _ex_-husband.

Love,  
Edward

P.S. Paddy has also done something very unpleasant in Rosalie's Jimmy Woos (or Joos or whatever they're called; anyway, her shoes). I've tried to convince her that it was out of grief for your unexplained disappearance, but she didn't exactly buy it and she really does seem intent upon killing him this time. So if you won't do it for me, reply for the duck's sake.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I know I don't ever do this, but just a quick note to **xxemmygrrlxx**: I have no idea where one would find a shrunken head. For all I know, you really could pick one up in Northern Africa.


	26. Remorse: A Brief Monologue

[The scene opens. The empty stage is lit only by a single spotlight. don'teatmycookie steps into view, looking contrite. She clears her throat]

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,

I'm working (very hard) on both the next chapter and a Christmas chapter (three months late, I know, I KNOW).

I am NOT stopping the story and I am NOT doing this just for the sake of making you suffer. I DO however, have a dream. I have a dream that one day, the process of applying to colleges will be made simple. I have a dream that I will someday live in a world where there will be no essays, no teacher recommendations, no FAFSA forms, no requests for money or application fees or SAT scores or the blood of your firstborn child, and the only questions asked on college applications will be "Are you awesome?" and "When can you start?". I have a dream that one day I will NOT have to work 25 hours a week, AND go to school, AND volunteer, AND resist the urge to beat my sister to death with a stack of college essays.

In fact, there will be no sisters at all in my new world order.

So please don't hate me. It's freezing here. I've been in hibernation.

Also, to Zodiac and Gemini *begs forgiveness* (those two are masters of the guilt-trip. They've actually made me terrified of my e-mail account)

Again: I prostrate myself at your feet. I feel nothing but deepest remorse. You may now commence the constant nagging, creative death-threats, and the slow, painful obliteration of my self-respect.

[don'teatmycookie exits stage left.]

[End scene]


	27. Homecoming

--_super awkward_-- Heeeeeey there. I realize that we've been apart a long time, you and I. We've had a few differences. Some ups and downs, if you will. And we took a short, erm...hiatus. And I know that I'm probably not your favorite person right now, not having updated in many, many moons, but...well, would you believe that after you finish the torturous process of applying to colleges and actually get in...they make you do _work_? A LOT of work. Endless work. Did anyone else know this? Because if I had I would have just stuck with my original plan of sitting on street corners telling jokes for spare change.

But college is a lot like the Mafia--once you're in, you're in, and there's no getting out EVER (or until you graduate...or get whacked). And every time I sat down to write a new chapter, a tiny little voice in the back of my head (a voice that sounds alarmingly similar to my mother's) would whisper, "Don't you have a paper to write? Isn't that homework due on Monday? Should you really be eating out of that ice cream carton at 9 in the morning?" (my voice doesn't always stick to one reprimand subject). And then I would slowly slink away to do more work and die slowly inside.

I eventually killed my tiny voice with my mental ninja sword and here we are!

The Christmas chapter is up, and has been for...a long, long time. If you haven't found it yet, you aren't properly dedicated and I will label you a traitor. Also, **jayisuncouth** was polite enough to point out an error in one of my earlier chapters. I mentioned Czechoslovakia, forgetting that Czechoslovakia no longer exists. So, scratch that--I meant the Czech Republic. And remember--these things that you catch and I don't are all that's keeping the ice caps from melting, the world from becoming flat, and the human race from bursting into flames (not true, but it makes you feel important, doesn't it?).

Happy Friday the 13th!

P.S. This story gets down to serious business after this chapter, so take off your fluff caps and put on your solemn top hats...and hope I manage to update before next Christmas.

P.P.S. I also realize that it is not possible to get yourself banned from Kansas. Stop being picky.

* * *

**Saturday  
8:16pm  
On a plane from London to New York**

Going home, going home! I'm fighting the urge to dance in the First Class aisle. I've already been glared at by one of the grumpier air hostesses for Unauthorized Squealing.

There are only two slight details that are marring my post-vacation ecstasy (besides the pronounced itch in my throat that tells me I haven't eaten enough and there are too many easy snacks sitting near me, all helpless and delicious):

I cannot seem to locate my phone, and my internet has abruptly stopped functioning. This would normally be inconsequential, save the fact that I have no way of reaching Edward. I haven't talked to him in days. I'm afraid he'll think I've run off with some British boy. At least we're heading back, though we're about four days off schedule. Alice is easily distracted by shiny objects, and I kept getting dragged off the train for hours at a time to watch her ogle jewelry and other sparkly things. And then we'd be forced to wait for the next train to pass by going our way, and that could take hours, which gave Alice _more_ excuse to wander off…we've had a very trying few days.

I was afraid that it would be too sunny to go out, let alone fly, but the beauty of England is that it's rainy and overcast 75 percent of the time. Plus, we have the added benefit of Alice's Forecast Foresight.

And speaking of, Alice is staring forlornly out of the window into the cloudy, grey day, her shoulders hunched, her lower lip jutting out like a piece of loose scaffolding. She keeps sighing dejectedly every time I try to strike up a conversation, so I'm ignoring her until she takes her huffy-pants off.

**  
8:18pm**

Alice is sighing again. No doubt she's writing some lugubrious sonnet in her head about the loss of innocence or the death of a dream.

She bought enough stuff to clothe three times the population of China, yet her dreams are dead.

Alright, Alice. Alright.

**  
8:24pm**

When the plane drifted up into a bed of clouds and the view out of the window became too foggy for her to realistically see anything (or even realistically fake it), Alice exhaled theatrically and finally got out of her mope-mobile, stretching her back and turning to examine me.

"So…" she said vaguely, leaning her head against the back of her seat. "Home again, huh?"

I nodded happily. "Home again."

She slumped in her seat, pulling her legs up and resting her chin on her bent knees. "Boo."

I leaned over to rest my cheek on her shoulder, tucking my legs up as well. "What's wrong?" I wheedled, in a far better mood than usual. In approximately six hours I would be happily in the middle of glomping Edward and nothing could make me more pleased.

Alice shrugged, and my head bounced up and slammed back down like an aggressive hippity-hop.

Honestly, I should be up for Sainthood at this point. The fact that, despite having been through so much—all as a direct result of the noxious, glitter-filled wasteland that is Alice's sick, sick mind—I can still manage to muster up sympathy for her shows some serious moral fiber.

_Staggering_ amounts of moral fiber.

I could successfully invade, conquer, and run a Raisin Bran factory with the amount of fiber I possessed.

Either that or two months of dodging stilettos had sapped what was left of my common sense right out through my ears.

For my fragile ego's sake, I'm leaning heavily toward the first option. The one with all the fiber.

"I'm going to miss our little adventures," Alice said wistfully, ignoring the man in the seat in front of her, who kept poking his nose around the back of his chair to get a better peek at her face.

Well, _our_ faces, I guess.

I apparently haven't been beautiful long enough to develop the sort of callous, cool facade other women possessed of good looks adopt. I'm also completely lost when my good looks are remarked upon (e.g. through catcalls, lascivious tongue movements, and the occasional smutty reference to things rhyming with Nantucket). Alice kept trying to drill into me, during our brief stay in Italy—where every man apparently walks around in a lust-filled daze—that saying, "Thank you!" and waving when someone wolf-whistled at me was considered encouragement and that it wasn't because they were "being nice", as I had so naively thought, but because they were "creepy creepers".

She even pointed out examples of appropriate reactions: a brunette flipping off a guy who complimented her cleavage; a teenage girl treating a small gang of soccer players to some excerpts from Trucker Al's Big Encyclopedia of Swear Words; and a scary woman in her mid-thirties screaming "YOU NEED JESUS!" at a pair of very tan men who honked at her from their Jag.

This seems a bit harsh to me.

"I don't know if I'd call what we've had 'adventures'," I said skeptically. "It feels more like we were tied down during a tsunami and survived."

Alice shrugged again. I decided that my head would be safer resting on my hand.

**  
8:36pm**

"We can still go on vacations together," I told Alice, when her continued melancholy began to upset me. "I mean, not to anywhere too far away. Or anywhere with shopping malls or a Tiffany & Co. Or any stores at all. But…we can always visit Forks. Or maybe rural Kansas." I nudged her with my elbow. "Eh? How's that sound? We can go to _Kansas_."

"We're banned," Alice sighed, folding her arms tightly across her chest.

"Banned?" I said vaguely, as my eyes tracked a particularly tasty-looking stewardess down the aisle. "From where?"

"Kansas."

That snapped me out of my craving daze. "You got _banned_ from a city in Kansas?" I hastily checked my volume as a grumpy businesswoman glanced across the aisle at me.

"No," Alice clarified, the corners of her mouth twitching upward suspiciously. "We were banned from the _state _of Kansas."

Nothing about Alice should shock me anymore, but you'll forgive me if I wasn't expecting to hear that she'd gotten herself legally barred from an entire American state.

When I recovered the use of my jaw and hiked it back up where it belonged, I asked—just to be certain— "'We', meaning you and…?"

"Rosalie."

"Of course," I said, perfectly calmly. "So you and Rosalie…what? Did some nude interpretive dancing in a public square? Please, tell me how a person would go about getting herself banned from _Kansas_."

Alice, sat back comfortably, shrugging. She really didn't have to look so pleased with herself. "Rosalie and I were labeled public menaces and so they banned us."

"_How?_" I asked, because there was no chance that I'd let her end it without giving me every detail. Besides, it was obvious that she was thoroughly relishing my reactions.

"Well, it wasn't anything that we did, really. And it was mostly Rose's fault. It's just that back then Rosalie didn't really pay much attention to how she dressed."

I raised my eyebrows, disbelieving. Rosalie? The same Rosalie who polished her cars obsessively half because she loved them and half because, if they were shiny enough, she could see her reflection in every surface?

Right.

"I don't mean that she spent any less time than usual staring in the mirror," she clarified. "She just didn't fully respect the power of she had over men. We were traveling through Kansas—"

"To enjoy all the corn scenery?"

"If you're not going to listen without making hurtful comments—"

"Okay," I said, apologetic. "Sorry. Keep going, I'm listening."

"Well, we were on our way back from sight-seeing on the East Coast, and we were trekking through Kansas for a few days—"

"Trekking?" I asked, skeptical.

"You can trek in a taxi," she insisted, offended. "And I warned you about rude comments." I apologized again. "So we were enjoying the countryside, mostly wandering through whichever towns we stopped in and enjoying the rural plant life—"

_Corn_, I thought, defiantly.

"—and Rosalie had splurged on this new collection of designer sundresses in New York. She was _obsessed_ with these sundress. She wore one every day for a week. Now, in _my_ opinion, they were _not_ that short, so I really don't know what all the fuss was about, but…she caused some minor traffic accidents."

"Traffic accidents?"

"Yes."

There was no fighting it. I asked. "How many is 'some'?"

Alice examined her nails carefully. "Sixteen."

"_Six_--!" I bit down on my tongue so hard it may have cracked. I was definitely going to have to work on my discretion. "_Sixteen_?" I hissed. "Did she fling herself onto a highway?"

"They were just a few rear-ends," Alice insisted, shaking her head mournfully. "It was _thirty-five years_ ago, before the age of sexual desensitization and all that. Nowadays, you see a girl in a bikini on television and think nothing of it. It takes a lot more than that to catch most men's attention. But back then, it didn't take very much at all. And…come on. You've _seen_ Rosalie."

I had, sure, but I'd never lost control of my gross motor skills.

"So some were a bit too busy gawking to notice that the car in front of them had stopped at a red light and..." She raised her hands as if the rest of the story told itself.

"You can't get banned from a state just for causing a few rear-ends," I asserted, though I wasn't sure. It was just too insane.

Insane. Who was I kidding? 'Alice' and 'Insane' were synonyms.

"And _then_," Alice admitted, "one guy turned the wrong way down a one-way street. And one crashed into a fire hydrant." She thought. "And one hit a mail truck."

I have lost so much respect for the male gender today.

"And, well, sixteen is an awful lot of accidents, even taking into account that they were all mostly in different towns, and none of them were intentional—or fatal."

"Oh, well, as long as none of them were fatal," I muttered sarcastically.

"Anyway, the Kansas State Police tracked down the source—i.e. us—and charged Rose with sixteen counts of disturbing the peace. But you can't legally fine or imprison someone for being 'too good-looking'. So they told her that the only solution that wouldn't be entirely unfair—she can't help how she looks, can she?—but would still maintain order and prevent unnecessary injuries, would be if she just…didn't come back."

I blinked. "You are making that up," I said flatly.

Alice held up her right hand in a Girl Scout's salute. "I swear on a box of Thin Mints, it's all true."

I spent approximately six seconds chewing that over. Then I asked to see mugshots.

**  
8:47pm**

"Well, there are still other places we could go in Alaska," I continued, after it became apparent that it was never going to be a good idea to take Alice anywhere bigger than the park. She was curled up on her side, her head stretching across the thick, padded arm support to rest on my pillow-covered lap. "We could go see a play or a movie. We can still go visit Forks." An idea hit me, plucked from a fuzzy memory of my childhood summers spent in Washington. "We could go to the Seattle Zoo! I went there almost every summer when I was a kid. You know, while I was staying with Charlie. As long as no one tries to eat anything, I bet it would be—"

Alice's eyes darted away.

I narrowed mine. "If you tell me you're banned from the zoo, so help me—!"

"Not the _entire_ zoo," she mumbled. "Just the petting zoo."

"But _how_?" I cried, not caring about volume control anymore.

She grinned. "Emmett tried to liberate the goats."

**  
8:53pm**

Alice has thought up something she'd be willing to do that she hasn't yet been legally prohibited from. Now her biggest challenge will be convincing me that my new body was made for nightclub dancing.

To which I say "HA!" in big huge capital letters.

She's _seen_ me dance. It's not pleasant. Or safe. People could _die_.

"It'll be easy, you'll see," Alice insisted anyway, and I could already sense her mentally putting together my outfit. "All you have to do is learn how to move your hips a bit and use that newly attained sexuality."

"Sexuality?" I laughed. "Alice, have you met me? Just to refresh your failing memory: hi, I'm Bella, the girl who knocked all the kids dressed as trees off the stage during her dance recital in the first grade. That's right; my jazz-hands are officially considered lethal weapons."

**  
8:54pm**

I've told Alice that the only dancing she'll be able to talk me into doing is the Macarena. Now she just has to decide between her desperation for a club-hopping buddy and her tolerance for total humiliation.

I am _not_ afraid to dance like someone's handi-capable grandma if it'll get me out of being forced into some sweaty underground nightspot.

**  
8:55pm**

Wait. Is it possible to kill someone while doing the Macarena?

**  
8:56pm**

A whole new world of frightening possibilities has just opened up for me. I bet if I tried hard enough, I could Funky Chicken someone to death.

Oh god.

Alice thinks I'm being asinine. I think I'm being realistic.

"If anyone in the world could manage it, it would be me," I insisted. "I don't think you're fully grasping the amount of carnage I could cause in a nightclub. With all those overheated bodies thrashing around, the concept of personal space a complete mystery to them. I could gesture too wildly and knock someone's head off! It could be Tiananmen Square all over again!"

Alice stared at me. "Bella, knocking someone's head off while dancing is a) the stupidest thing I've ever heard and b) possibly the least similar event ever compared to the Tiananmen Square Massacre. Mainly because I don't think they allow tanks in the club I'm referring to."

**  
9:02pm**

The sun, smothered beneath a thin skin of overcast grey sky, had just begun to inch out when something odd happened to Alice's face. It sort of…lit up.

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why are you so happy?"

"What do you mean?" she asked blankly. A perfect imitation of the mildly puzzled accused party. Still…

"You've been sulking since we left London, so why are you suddenly so cheerful?"

We engaged in a brief staring contest. Finally, Alice quit the pretense and smiled.

I knew that smile. I was _afraid_ of that smile.

"Alice," I warned. "What have you done?"

"Nothing," she beamed. "That's the beauty of it—I didn't have to do anything. It's so great to finally have something handed to me, instead of having to force it." She grabbed my hand. "Trust me, Bella—we are going to have so much fun!"

Before I could dig in my heels and _demand_ to know what was going on, a lightly accented voice said, "I'm sorry I didn't ask for your permission to come over, but I'm not really a patient person on my best day and I've had about six cups of coffee this evening so sitting still is physically impossible unless I want to start shaking and sweating. I'd have been over sooner, but standing up has suddenly become an extreme sport for me."

I looked over my shoulder, then up. I didn't have very far to look. The speaker stood at about five feet two inches with lengthy, dark hair pulled back into a loose braid, olive-toned skin, and a young face with deep-set dimples, as well as an extra twenty pounds packed neatly onto her front, pushing gently against the draped blue material of her maternity gown.

And something about her seemed so…familiar.

It clicked faster than it would have before my transformation, but it still took me a few seconds to place her face. I subtracted the smile and the braid and added a scowl and a terrified mustachioed man—

"You're the angry pregnant woman from the opera!" I gasped, pointing unnecessarily.

The pregnant woman and I would have been wearing matching blushes had I still been able to blush. "I'm sorry," I said, reigning in my finger in absolute embarrassment. "I didn't mean to—"

"No, no, it's never a problem," she exclaimed, brushing off my apology in a bright, Italian lilt. "I blame the pregnancy hormones. It's impossible to hold your temper when you've got a baby's foot wedged into your bladder. Still, I'm embarrassed." She fanned her flushed face.

Alice smiled at her, a fragile personification of all things adorable.

I smiled too, but asked, "I'm sorry, but, who are you exactly?"

"Oh, forgive me!" she cried, fluttering her hands around her face in dismay. Her flailing left hand nearly clipped a male flight attendant as he crept timorously past carrying a basket of buttered pretzels. "I've just been craving a word with you! I noticed you at the opera, you see. You're a difficult pair to miss. My Theo hasn't been so dumbstruck since he met me. He nearly fell down the stairs," she added brightly.

"I'm sorry," I said, apologizing without really knowing why. She still hadn't introduced herself.

"Don't be!" she cried. "It's perfectly alright. I was a bit stricken myself. You two have the most spectacular faces…" her sentence tapered off as she leaned forward to stare in rapt fascination at the two of us. "Just spectacular," she muttered, more to herself than to us.

"Um…" I hesitated, my eyes crossing as she stopped an inch away from my nose. I held my breath as my stomach churned and my dry throat reminded me that I hadn't eaten in several hours. "I'm Bella. Nice to meet you."

"Oh!" she cried, jerking upright and startling the poor flight attendant into dropping his basket as he made his way back down the aisle. "I'm Fiona!" cried Fiona, paying no attention to the scramble of flight staff gathering up the little individual pretzel packets scattered near her feet.

"Alice," chimed Alice, extending a dainty hand. "I've heard of you."

I glanced her way, nonplussed.

"You're Fiona I," Alice continued surely. As an afterthought, as though trying to add some human uncertainty to her conclusion, she asked, "Aren't you?"

Fiona of the Single-Lettered Last Name looked delighted. "You know my work!"

"Of course," Alice laughed. "I was at your last Winter show in Tokyo and fell in love. My husband bought half the line for me."

Something cold and slithery seemed to crawl down my spine and settle like a lead ball in my stomach.

"Really?! That's so sweet! But—husband? You can't possibly be married at your age!"

No. I refused to believe it. Everything in me rejected my suspicion, even as undeniable proof was strewn at my feet.

"Actually I'm twenty," Alice explained, lying with a smile. "I married young, and I look even younger. It's an unfortunate trick of genetics. My sister got all the height." Alice laughed and gestured toward me as I wondered on what planet 5'4" was considered tall. Then again, next to Alice I looked like an Amazon.

"I can sympathize," Fiona intoned, nodding wisely. "Being two inches over five feet and working with six-foot high models all day is terrible for my self-esteem. But they make much better body hangers for my clothes than short models, so what can I do?"

Oh. My. God.

No. _No_.

"I'm sorry," I interrupted, with much more calm than I would have thought myself capable of while my brain felt like it was hemorrhaging. "Are you..."

Alice and Fiona both blinked me, Fiona's gaze anticipatory, Alice's glinting with mischief.

"You're not," I asked Fiona carefully, "A designer or something…right?" I chuckled a little, like the idea was so ridiculous, so ludicrous that—

Fiona brightened. "Yes! I am! I take it you've never heard of me, but I don't mind, I'm not –"

My brain seemed to go numb for a second, like someone had poured ice water in through one of my ears.

And then I began to pray.

I don't know who I was praying too. Maybe I was just fishing around in the Great Cosmos hoping like hell that someone out there would take my bait and grant my wish.

_Just let me get home, please, PLEASE let me get home to Edward without any stops, or detours, or crazy field trips, or—_

"—on my way to New York for a show," Fiona was chattering, oblivious. "I'm running late, as a matter of fact. My flight was cancelled, so I had to catch this one. Unlike _some_ diva designers I might mention, I haven't ever bothered to waste money on a private plane. After tonight I might reconsider. It's starting to seem like a wise investment."

"Is this the mysterious new line I've been hearing whispers about all year?" Alice inquired, leaning so far over me that she was practically in my lap.

"Hi, there, and welcome to my personal bubble," I said. She ignored me.

"It might be," Fiona chuckled. "Ah, it's so nice to be able to talk to someone who isn't a designer about these things. You wouldn't believe how pretentious some people can be." She bit her lip and eyed us thoughtfully. "I was thinking…are you two going anywhere in a hurry? When you land in New York, I mean. Because if you haven't got anything _vitally_ important to do…"

**  
9:02pm**

Isn't it funny how one moment you can be floating along through life, not doing too badly, and the next the big Boot of Fate just lifts up and nails you in the jaw? And suddenly you're lying on the floor all dizzy and beaten up, with your teeth scattered around you, wondering if you'll ever recover.

That's about where I am right now.

**  
11:00pm**

I have got to say, it takes some seriously abominable karma to end up in a situation as atrocious as this one. For a start, all of the appropriate planets have to align in that exact, precise order to royally screw you over. Really, it took _talent_ to get to where I was on the Bad JooJoo scale.

Apparently, I'd been Hitler in my past life.

"I just remember thinking that you two would be the perfect little body hangers for my Fall collection," Fiona pattered on as she pushed us through the crowd of assistants and make-up artists flitting around through the fog of hairspray and pop music backstage at her show. "I don't suppose you're models, are you?"

I nearly choked. I realize that it's not such a ridiculous concept now that I've gone through my spectacular transformation and no longer K.O. myself every time I walk down a flight of stairs or--god forbid--_run_. But that doesn't mean that I'll suddenly have a desire to make my living stomping up and down a strip of lit fiberglass in a dress made out of Band-Aids and Bubble Yum (or whatever the fashion is these days).

"No, I suppose not," Fiona chirped, apparently responding to some comment Alice (her new BFF) had made. I hadn't heard it. The mixture of shock and overloud Techno music had turned my ears into vestigial organs. "You're both a bit petite for models I suppose. Ah, well, it hardly matters! I myself--"

I tuned her out, unable to keep from thinking that by some sadistic twist of fate I'd ended up at _another_ one. Another thrice-damned fashion event. Except this was worse, because I couldn't even pretend to be asleep. Or dead.

And I can't even hate the woman who brought me here (to the furthest corner of Purgatory). At a towering 5'2" and round as a ball of yarn, she's just too adorable to work up any real enmity for.

I can hate Alice though. She looks like a little kid who's been scooped up on a magic carpet and flown to Santa's workshop in the North Pole. She looks so joyful, so euphoric…

It makes me want to kill her.

Very slowly.

With dull, rusty knives.

I mean, the last thing I remember I was shaking my head and saying "no, no, and _hell_ no"…and yet, somehow…

Suddenly, I'm sitting alone on a stool beside a make-up table, and Alice is nowhere in sight and some woman in a long, flamboyant dress is coming at me with a make-up brush and I am definitely running away now—

**  
11:34am**

Foiled by a seven-foot celery stick packing glitter and an eyelash curler.

I have no dignity left.

But if there's one thing I'll take home from this trip, it's knowledge. I have learned many, many useful things on this brief vacation to The Brimstone-Filled Center of Hades. Life lessons, really.

Firstly, I will never again go abroad with Alice. It seems so obvious, but, not too long ago, I used to think I knew what was blatantly stupid and what wasn't. Two months later, here I am, in New York, wearing glitter eye shadow. A lesson well-learned.

**  
11:36am**

"What happened to you?" Alice asked as she ambled by looking positively besieged by glee. "Your eyes are all…shimmery."

"I tried to run away," I explained, my voice a low, haunted whisper. "And she caught me. She can't weigh more than six pounds, but somehow…somehow she got me."

"Huh," Alice smiled. "Well, you look nice." She kissed my cheek and sauntered off, seeming to vanish in a giant poof of glitter and hairspray.

I think I'm losing my grip on reality.

**  
11:37am**

I want to go home. I miss my husband.

And my ducky.

Not necessarily in that order.

**  
11:46am**

And I still can't find my phone! I'm freaking out and there's no voice of reason (namely, Edward) speaking in my ear reminding me of all the reasons why I can't or shouldn't shove Alice into a ditch and run away.

**  
11:51am**

"This is fun, you have to admit," Alice said, settling beside me, glowing with happiness.

She's finally found her people.

"Oh, do I?" I asked skeptically. Thinking aggressive thoughts, I eyed the distance to the metal-backed hairbrush on the dressing table and tried to calculate how much damage I could do with it before Alice managed to fight me off.

"Don't try it," Alice warned calmly, leaning toward her own dressing table mirror. "I don't want to have to hog tie you with that sewing thread over there, but I will do it."

I moaned pathetically, slowly easing my head down onto the marble top littered with creams and colors, trying to concentrate on not grinding a hole in the table surface with my forehead. "Why are you doing this to me, Alice?"

Alice was silent for so long, I thought maybe she'd left me to mope in peace, but after a long pause I felt her tiny hand on my head, fingers combing affectionately through my hair. I peeked at her between the strands and felt a jolt of surprise.

The look on Alice's face was so mushy and adoring, I thought she might be having some sort of Jasper-flashback, induced by the long absence of her husband.

"Bella," she sighed quietly. "I love you."

I blinked. Then I narrowed my eyes at her. "You're not going to try to kiss me, are you?"

Alice rolled her eyes. "Is there some hitch in your brain that makes it impossible for you to _not_ make snarky comments when I'm trying to initiate a Kodak moment?"

"What?" I asked, feigning offense. "You're gazing at me like I'm a pair of Prada sling-backs or Jasper without any pants on." I gave a mock shuddered. "It's creepy."

"Agh!" she cried, exasperated. "You're worse than Jasper! Do you know what he did the last time I told him I loved him? He cleared his throat about a hundred times and then said, 'Er—eh-hem—uh, thanks.'"

I shrugged. "Well, that doesn't sound so—" I began encouragingly.

"And then he slapped me on the back and told me if I needed him, he'd be in the oven."

"Wow," I said, grimacing.

Alice stared at me meaningfully.

"What?!" I cried. "I've never once slapped you on the back! Except that one time in Sweden and that was not affectionate"

Alice sighed. "Bella, this is not about back-slaps or Jasper's obvious need for emotional counseling. This is about _you_. I did all of this—this trip, this fashion show—because I want you to have fun!"

"I _was_ having—" I began, but she cut me off, shaking her head.

"I know, I know! You would have been content to curl up in a corner of the library for the rest of your unnatural life with a few dozen books and Edward as a pillow, but…" Her forehead creased with anxiety, "…but, I wanted you to really _experience_ something. I don't want you to stop living just because you're dead—no pun intended. That's why I nagged you to leave Edward for a little while and come to Europe with me and to go out and shop and visit places. I knew you wouldn't do any of it unless I gave you a little bit of a push." She rephrased when she saw my look. "Okay, so I tackled you with it. But I'm not doing all of this to make you miserable. I did it because you're my sister, and my friend, and I love you. And to be honest, I don't think you _are_ miserable. I think you're actually having fun...not the kind of fun you're used to, but still, you're having fun." She tilted her head until her eyes were level with mine. "I'm right…aren't I?"

I stopped my emphatic mental head-shaking for a moment and thought about what she was saying. _Was_ I miserable? Surrounded by all of this flash, and glamour and excitement. Entrenched in a world of shimmering designs and extravagant gowns and energized bodies. Was it honest unhappiness that I felt or was I just being contrary because I'd become so accustomed to it and because being in collusion with Alice now would throw me too far off balance? I stopped all other brain functions for a quick second to focus on answering my own question: Was I _really_ miserable?

Yes. Yes, I really was.

"Alice," I said matter-of-factly. "I hate it here."

Her face retained its impassive smile, but her eyes dimmed a bit under the bright lights. "Oh," she said, trying to look unfazed. "Well, that's alright, Bella. I mean, if that's how you really feel. I guess I just thought—"

"I hate it _here_," I repeated, waving my arm to encompass the bedazzled room. "But…I guess…you're sort of right."

Her eyes snapped back to mine. "Pardon?"

"I'll admit that this…" I squirmed a bit as I forced out the words I'd rather not have to admit. "This trip was…_fun_."

(Was I choking out loud or in my head?)

"It was exciting," I said grudging, but sincere. "I never would have done any of this by myself because, quite frankly, it's all very loud and kind of stupid and I still don't get any of this fashion-speak you've been spouting at me. But it was something new. And I did it with someone I love." I sighed and finally gave in. "I liked it. Even the parts I hated, I kind of liked. Even now when I'm sitting here, frying under dressing-table lights in a room that smells like hair gel and is full of women who have nightmares about things like Pop-Tarts—" I shrugged. "Well, I'm managing to control my gag-reflex, at least." I sighed. "You're right. You're _always_ right," I added in a petulant grumble.

Alice beamed.

"But that does not mean that I'm suddenly going to enjoy being backstage at your silly fashion show," I informed her irritably.

Alice looked disapproving. "Bella, do I come into _your_ church, or synagogue, or mosque and insult _your_ religion?"

"Um," I said, "I don't go to church. And I'm not Jewish. Or Islamic."

Alice waved that away. "I don't care. I'm just saying: I don't insult _your_ beliefs. And this, Bella," she intoned dramatically waving her hand to include the entire backstage area, "is my house of worship."

"Have you ever considered taking medication for this illness of yours?" I asked politely.

**  
11:58am**

I am standing beside what, at first glance, might be mistaken for a blonde bob on a popsicle stick, holding a flat-iron in one hand and what remains of my dignity in the other, reminding myself that begging for death is pointless and that hairspray is highly flammable, so lighting myself on fire (my plan B) could send the whole place up in flames.

I'm weighing the pros and cons…

**  
6:00am  
Juneau Airport**

Oh, god, I'm exhausted.

It turns out that being dead is more taxing than being alive, despite the energy conservation factor.

After the trauma of Fiona's show was finally called to a close, Alice tracked me to the dark corner I was cowering in and told me to, quote, "get my ass moving or we'd miss our next flight."

I had to fight to remember the rules I'd set for myself before going on this trip—namely, Rule #37, the "No Garroting Alice" rule.

Fiona waved us off cheerfully, promising to call Alice who had somehow managed to become her new bestest friend in all of two hours and will probably be invited back when Fiona gives birth.

Those two were so close by the end of the night that I wouldn't be all that surprised if Fiona decided to divorce her husband and run away with Alice so that they could live forever in sin in a house made entirely of Jimmy Choos.

Whatever. There's no accounting for taste, and Fiona is…well, the fact that her last name is a vowel really just speaks for itself.

**  
6:03am**

Well, at least we're in the proper state now. And if Alice doesn't stumble across Vera Wang stuck in a snow drift or something on our way to the car, we might even make it home before Christmas.

But I'm not counting my chickens.

**  
6:17am**

Still at the airport, which is at least an hour and half-long drive from home. I was all for running, luggage or no luggage—hell, I was fully prepared to leave all of our stuff behind in the airport—but Alice acted like I'd suggested she abandon her children.

"You can leave behind a couple pairs of shoes!" I insisted—I'll admit, not thinking very clearly or fairly. But it wasn't my fault that she'd decided to buy her weight in D&G and now had eleven suitcases.

Alice gasped, horrified, and stepped in front of her luggage with her arms outstretched like she was standing between a loved one and a war missile. "What kind of sick, sick, sicko are you?"

"Alice, I want to go home and it'll take us _hours_ to get there by car! Can't you just drive by yourself?" I asked hopefully, ignoring the funny looks people kept sending me. Standing around the baggage claim arguing beside a pile of luggage the size of a small mountain had made us something of a spectacle. "I'll run home and you can ride with the luggage. That way you won't have to leave anything behind!"

"Bella, we've got only two hours left before our vacation ends for good." She grabbed my hand, swinging our joined fists like we were children. "You managed to make it two months with me and all I ask for is two more hours. Two _final_ hours. You can't give up on me _now_."

"You're fully aware that neither of us is dying, right?" I inquired conversationally. "And that after these "final two hours" you mentioned are up, neither of us will suddenly drop off the face of the Earth? In fact, the way I see it, in two hours nothing will have changed at all, except that we'll be 80 miles north of here. And possibly not even that, because there is a frighteningly real possibility that in two hours I might still be standing here arguing with you." I thought for a moment. "Or I might have stuffed you into a suitcase and fled."

Alice pulled her hand away and crossed her arms over her chest, the folds of her huge, thick, cream-colored sweater bunching up around her hands and chest. She looked like an angry marshmallow.

"Why is it that _every_ conversation we have ends in some violent, unnecessary, and, quite frankly, hurtful threat to my well-being?" she asked.

"Maybe it's because everything you say makes me want to pull my bottom lip up over my face and swallow my own head," I said.

**  
6:26am**

After much argument, a little bit of shouting, and three unfortunate incidents involving Alice's flailing handbag and some unsuspecting passersby who didn't duck in time, we managed to reach a compromise. In the end I caved and allowed Alice to drag me triumphantly toward the car, but not before I was allowed to hunt up a pay phone.

I hadn't spoken to Edward in almost a week, and between Fiona's show and the _seventeen_ other "unexpected" detours we'd made on the way back to London (spa, shopping, sight-seeing, shopping, spa again, shopping, shopping, shopping—is anyone else sensing a pattern? ) we were three days late for our arrival date. Edward was probably past upset, since I'd lost both internet access and my phone (and Alice's phone had been put to rest in the great Wrestling Match of '09 back in Italy).

I punched in Edward's number and waited with barely contained anticipation for his voice to come on the other en—

Emmett picked up on the second ring. "Hola!"

I sighed, my heart sliding back down from my throat to my chest. "Emmett, why do you have Edward's phone?"

"Que?"

"Put. Edward. ON THE PHONE," I gritted out, clenching my jaw.

"Senor Edward no aqui. You call back later, por favor—"

"Emmett, I _need_ to talk to Edward."

"No comprenden."

"Come on, Emmett!"

"Man nemifahmam," he insisted, switching tongues.

I growled, trying to place the language from what I'd learned from Carlisle. It took three seconds for me to place the dialect, and then I exclaimed, "Emmett, I don't speak Farsi!"

There was a brief silence, and then, "…Nge ha rang mago?"

"I don't speak dumbass either, Emmett."

Alice had wandered over, and her eyebrows knit together as she picked up the other end of my conversation. "Why is Emmett talking to you in Sherpa?"

**  
6:34am**

I made absolutely no headway with Emmett, though he did try to get his point across in every language—Finnish, Mandarin, and something that may have been Elvish—_except_ English.

When he started in on Jamaican Patois I hung up on him.

**  
7:15am**

In the car on the way home. We've been driving for nearly forty-five minutes and I'm so antsy my hands are shaking. Alice had to hire a car for us, and a small army of moving trucks for our luggage. They were following behind us, but when Alice jetted off at 400 miles per hour they fell behind. It's a good thing she gave them directions, or we might have ended up with no clothes after all. Alice is already paranoid that they're going to crash and destroy her pretty new wardrobe (never mind that the drivers might be hurt—her Dior cocktail dress might get mussed, oh my!)

I don't know how she expects to sneak any of this past Jasper, but she says she has a plan.

However, unless it involves some sort of futuristic cloaking device, I sincerely doubt he won't notice her waltzing in with 6 tons of clothes and accessories she didn't leave with.

Meanwhile, my fidgeting is only adding to the car's overall undercurrent of hysteria.

"Bella, we'll be home soon," she insisted, reaching over from the driver's seat to pat my hand soothingly. The closer we got to home, the more sanity seemed to return to her. "You've been fine all summer, so another hour shouldn't be hard at all. Just think nice, calm, happy thoughts. Think about sweaters. You like sweaters."

"I know," I sighed, not relaxing one bit. "I just have this awful feeling that somehow he's managed to get himself into trouble since we last talked. He'll have gone hunting and run into some other vampires, or Jake's pack will have mistaken him for an enemy and eaten him, or he'll have wandered off and fallen into a vat of oil or a hole full of sharp knives or been eaten by polar bears or _something_!" I tugged in frustration on the long braid I'd pulled my hair into. It held, strong like the rest of me, and settled calmly back down, the perfectly un-split ends brushing my rib cage.

"Stupid hair," I mumbled.

Alice laughed gently, then gave up the vague hand-patting and curled hers under mine, clasping our fingers together and squeezing. The fact that she was looking at me sympathetically and not watching the road, which was zipping under us in a rapid-fire succession of yellow lines, didn't matter to me in the slightest. I began to count each one, trying to calm myself down.

"You realize that that kind of thinking is exactly what makes Edward so nervous all of the time," she teased gently.

I sighed. "I think I've finally begun to understand why."

..._54, 55, 56, 57_…

**  
7:45am**

The sun's come out, but there's no one around on these desolate back roads but us, shimmering and shining and worrying.

**  
7:58am**

Ten miles to home. Alice's driving has reached unheard of speeds, even for her. She's had the gas pedal floored for the past twenty minutes. Luckily every road in Alaska seems to be one big straight line with the occasional 2 degree curve.

Eight-and-a-half miles to home…

**  
8:45am**

Home and…confused.

The car hadn't fully stopped before my feet were on the ground, touching down and taking off in an instant. I was up the front steps and through the main doors so quickly I left grooves in the polished wood floor, though I didn't know it until later.

The second I passed under the dark chandelier into the unlit foyer that familiar scent hit me with a hurricane's destructive force.

"Edward!" I called, kicking off my shoes, closing my eyes, and inhaling as much air and as much of that scent as my lungs could hold, pushing it until I thought my chest might burst. I waited for the telltale footsteps, the overwhelming fragrance, the perfect embrace I'd been craving for so many long months.

But nothing.

My eyes snapped open as I heard Alice come in behind me and realized that the sound of her footsteps was the only sound I could hear. Not just in the room, but anywhere.

There was no shuffling of papers from Carlisle's office, no electronic buzz of the TV in the living room, no footsteps on the third floor, not even the telltale hum of a low-watt light bulb. No noise anywhere.

No life anywhere.

The entire house was dark and abandoned.

My stomach sank like a stone in water as I turned slowly toward Alice, who stood silently in the doorway behind me.

"Alice…where is everyone?"


	28. Paris

So, I had a whole spiel up about my LiveJournal earlier, and apparently when my cat decided it would be a good idea to put her furry ass all over my keyboard's delete key while I was editing out bits, it got _poof!_ed. So, AGAIN, I have a LiveJournal. The link is on my profile. If you want to listen to me ramble, read it. I'll also use it to give you updates on my progress in different chapters.

And now I have to go put my cat in the bathtub as punishment.

Oh, and there was a thing about type-o's and how you should alert me to them, blah-dee-blah-dee-blah. I believe the old one was wittier than that, but I suppose you'll never get to see that one....

....here, kitty, kitty, kitty....

* * *

**Midnight  
****Two hours outside of Forks**

It's midnight in mid-September and I am skulking like a bat, in a forty-foot pine, trying to balance both my computer and my irritation.

Why is it that everyone in this family seems to labor under the false delusion that I'm too fragile, or maybe too stupid, to be allowed to know what the hell is going on at any given time?

Also, there are pine needles in my boots.

**  
12:10am**

That's it. I'm putting this computer away. I'll update everything later. Now that I've got memory like a supercomputer, it's much easier than dragging the laptop around with me everywhere. I can't deal with it anymore. Hopefully, if I leave it wedged safely between these two branches it won't fall.

Or be stolen by a woodland critter.

**  
12:12am**

Back to my misguided, secretive family. How or why they ended up back in Forks I have no idea. Because Alice wouldn't tell me.

"Alice…" I had asked, not liking the guilt I could see clouding her expression, "Where is everyone?"

Alice sighed, not moving from the doorway, as if she felt she might need to make a quick exit. She slid the toe of her ballet flat up the back of her calf, then back down, nervously. "Honestly?"

"That would be preferable, yes."

"I…" she shrugged. "I'm not sure."

"Alice!"

"I swear, I don't know! I could see them all perfectly clearly, until Russia, and then…Edward and Carlisle started to sort of….flicker in and out."

"Flicker? Why?"

She shrugged. "That's usually what happens when someone's got a choice to make and they're suffering from indecision. Their futures blink back and forth between multiple outcomes until they decide on one. When you first met Edward, his incessant vacillation made his futures swim around so much it made me woozy."

I was in no mood for amusing anecdotes. "Why were they flickering, Alice?"

She sighed. "Well, usually, as I said, they just blink back and forth between two clear futures. But if they were switching between visibility and invisibility, then that means that at least one of their future outcomes has to have involved…" she trailed off, knowing that I'd already reached the right conclusion.

"The wolves," I breathed. "Jacob's pack! But…why? If we've been in Alaska for the past few months, then why would Edward and Carlisle's paths ever cross the Pack's?"

"I don't know the details. No one told me anything, but when it first started, I tried to pry it out of Edward and, when that didn't work, I tried Jasper. All he would tell me was that it was Edward's decision whether to tell you or not. And when I reminded him that he wasn't married to Edward, he was married to a woman who could kick his ass seventy-two different ways, he confessed that something had happened in Forks, and Carlisle and Edward were debating whether or not to go back and… help sort things out."

I scowled. "What sort of things?"

Alice lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. "That's where my knowledge runs out. He wouldn't tell me what the problem was, wouldn't even hint." She crossed her arms, a sullen pout on her face. "And for that he's sleeping on the roof for the next six months."

This…did not compute. Jacob's pack and my family had parted ways months ago, and there was no reason that they should—or even could—bump into each other. Not from nearly a thousand miles away.

"All I know now," Alice finished, "is that they settled on the road that leads to a whole lot of white fizz. And, a few days after that, so did the rest of the family. Everyone's gone blank. And no one is answering their phone, not even that Jasper—that jackass. And while I'm about as much use as an Etch-A-Sketch right now, my superb powers of deduction tell me that, wherever they are, the wolves are with them."

"Which would mean they're somewhere near the reservation," I concluded.

"Or at least, they were."

I nodded, resigning myself. "So we'll have to go to Forks."

"And if they're not there?"

"We'll follow their scent." I glanced at her. "Or something like that. I've never actually tracked anyone before seeing as I just came into my bionic nose."

Alice laughed, and the carefree sound—so out of place in the middle of my frustration—reminded me that I was mad at her.

I folded my arms angrily. "Why the hell didn't you tell me any of this before?"

Alice seemed to chew over her response for a moment. "Well…Edward didn't want me to—"

"You've _never_ cared what Edward wants."

"Right, and that was wrong."

"Alice," I demanded. "The truth."

"We were having fun," she said, matter-of-factly. "And whatever they're doing can't be life-threatening, can it? Otherwise, Jasper would have told me. He knows better. If _you_ had known, you would have let your endearing penchant for overreacting ruin your vacation. And as your new sister and old best friend, I couldn't, in good conscience, let that happen."

"Of course not," I muttered, using my knuckle to grind away at the fledgling headache between my eyebrows. "And I was so looking forward to just curling up with a good book and shunning you for the next few months."

Alice patted my shoulder sympathetically, but was unable to fully stifle her grin.

**  
12:45am**

And so, after trying Edward's phone a dozen times and getting redirected to voicemail every time, I unpacked my things—throwing underwear, socks, and sweaters alike all around the room, with only a vague hope of them landing in the right place—and headed off in the direction of home.

Alice, after trying fruitlessly to contact every member of the family as well, resigned herself to staying home.

"What if they come back?" I insisted when, she seemed determined to come along. "You can call me and tell me so I don't spend the good part of a month digging under every rock for them while you're all here at home sleeping or scratching yourselves or whatever it is you guys do when I'm not around."

"We mostly play foosball and eat Doritos in our underwear," Alice said, straight-faced.

"Charming."

**  
12:48am  
****One hour outside of Forks**

Maybe it sounds stupid, even in the security of my own thoughts, but this is _not_ the way I've been imagining my homecoming for the past few months. In my mind, Alice and I had gone straight from London to home. Everyone had met us at the airport and, after a lot of hugging and smiling and "I missed you"s—and after Rosalie and I grudgingly exchanged the world's most awkward hug—we would all head home, me sitting in Edward's lap the entire way. Even if he was driving.

Then, we would arrive home, everyone but Edward and me would instantly disappear in a puff of smoke, and Edward would promptly remove his pants.

Simple.

To the point.

And apparently, all wrong.

**  
1:18am**

Following their scent trail, I—rather abruptly—hit a fork in the road (so to speak).

I slid to a halt, feet digging into the underbrush and gouging two deep paths in the soft, leaf-strewn forest floor.

I paused and rested my hand against the trunk of a gargantuan oak tree. Inhaling deeply, I sorted through the information my olfactory sense was picking up.

Whereas, for the past few hours, I had been following all six overlapping scents at once, I had now reached a sudden split—while the rest of my family had continued in one direction, Carlisle's trail veered west.

The La Push reservation was west.

And he'd headed there by himself.

I spent one brief second in deliberation over which way to go, but it was plain to me that Carlisle had gone alone for a reason. The situation with the wolves was delicate at best and downright hostile at worst.

I doubted skipping onto the reservation and suddenly popping up at Carlisle's side, shouting "Surprise!" would help matters. I might be able to limp away with my vital bits intact, but somehow I didn't think my already sour mood would fare so well if I had to piece myself back together like a jigsaw puzzle.

Believe it or not, I am just not in a very Humpty-Dumpty mood tonight.

So, after one more deep inhale, I sped down the path leading toward Edward, leaving a flurry of dead leaves and dust in my wake.

**  
1:22am**

What in the hell is that?

**  
1:23am**

Imagine driving down the freeway, your mind on auto-pilot as you cruise over the paved road, absolutely sure of your direction because the white lines on the pavement are telling you where to go—when all of a sudden another, entirely different set of white lines fly across your path at a completely different angle, throwing you off the road and into complete and utter confusion.

I'd imagine that would be similar to how I felt when, jetting over Edward's path at 200 miles an hour, an entirely separate path made up of an entirely new scent blasted over my familiar trail at an awkward 60 degree-angle, confusing my senses and forcing me to halt so suddenly that I brought down a ten-foot pine sapling before I could right myself.

"What the…?" I breathed, backtracking. In a second I was back at the unexpected crossroads I had flown past, staring, baffled, at the ground. My senses were so sharp that it was almost as if I could see the two paths painted in bright strips on the ground: the rainbow of colors that made up my family's familiar scents heading in one direction. And a completely strange, foreign color—a color I had never seen before, and a scent I had never smelled before—drawn over their path heading a different way.

The scent was alien, but recognizable all the same. It smelled of stone and spun sugar and blood.

There was another vampire in Forks.

**  
1:24am**

Just to clarify, I fully get how stupid it is to be standing here in the middle of the wilderness in the boots I forgot were not prime hiking footwear, with the bottom half of my ass hanging out of a dress that was indecent enough to begin with—before I got it caught on a branch and tore a great strip off the bottom.

Before I was only mildly slutty. Now I'm an inch and a half away from being that crazy relative who left the house and forgot to put on pants.

I fully comprehend that even considering straying from the familiar, safe—practically fluorescent—path that points toward my family and following the creepy Mystery Path that smells like human blood indicates a serious common sense deficiency.

But, for just the briefest moment, I found myself honestly thinking, "Well, why not?"

And then the reasonable side of my brain replied, "Because you don't have any idea whether the person at the end of that trail will welcome you or make your kidney into a hat."

And that argument just made sense.

So I turned back around, ready to make up the time I'd lost—

But there was someone in my way.

**  
1:25am**

I honestly thought I had evolved out of my unreasonable lack of dexterity. Sure, there was the odd accident, and that time I fell over my luggage in the airport, but I was getting used to being upright until I decided not to be.

But when someone creeps up behind you without a sound or even a courteous cough, it's not unlikely that, when you turn around in a major hurry, you'll plow into them.

I was _gunning_ it, so not only did I slam into a chest with all the give of a concrete barricade, but I knocked the feet out from under both of us.

A sound like a wrecking ball hitting the side of a mountain resonated through the forest. Dead leaves and soil flew into the air as we skidded a few feet then came to a dead, mortifying stop.

When the leaves settled back to the ground and the explosive sound retreated into silence, I took a moment to be properly horrified that I was sprawled across an unfamiliar chest while my unfortunate victim was—well, if he had been human, he probably would have been dead on the ground with his diaphragm knocked through his spine. Instead, he was pressed two inches into the soft earth in a man-shaped crater.

Feeble comfort for him, I'm sure.

In the sixteenth of a second that it took me to consider all of this, berate myself for my clumsiness, and start to peel my front off of his, his scent struck me full in the face. Something I should have noticed before, but for some inexplicable reason, hadn't.

He smelled like…stone and spun sugar.

And blood.

That's about the point when I began to understand that fear should have been my initial reaction, not embarrassment.

In one fluid movement I was off the ground and twenty paces back, staring at the spot where the unknown vampire lay—at least, where he _had been_ lying, only half a second ago. In the blink it had taken me to get up, he had gone.

No. Not gone.

I spun around and there he was, two feet behind me, searching my face quizzically, as if I were a particularly interesting piece of artwork. Like he didn't quite know how to interpret me.

My reaction was delayed, but it came. I got very frightened, very quickly.

Superhuman I might be, but in the world of superhumans I was utterly average.

I swallowed—a nervous reaction—and a small "hey" slipped out. It infuriated me that my tone had come out, not nonchalant, as I'd been going for, but breathy with fear.

"Hey," he responded, his lips twisting up at one corner. He was amused. His "hey" had come out more formal than casual, as if the word were a strange new taste in his mouth.

After a moment's hesitation, I planted my feet. Something told me I wouldn't be able to outrun him. I was going to have to BS myself out of this one.

Fan-freakin'-tastic.

"Who are you?"

He didn't respond. His crimson eyes roamed my face, mildly curious, but nothing more.

"It's rude to stare," I snapped, successfully keeping the tremor out of my voice—barely. And, oh fabulous, I'd reverted to basic "frightened prey with nothing else to say" dialogue.

That odd smile was back. He took a step closer. Having already been uncomfortably close, this put him directly inside my personal bubble.

"Wow," I said, refusing to give him the satisfaction of backing up, "you are _super_ close."

"You have strange eyes," he said softly, ignoring my complaint and remaining right where he was. His accent was odd, faint, and unplaceable. "Strange eyes, just like him."

"Just like who?"

No reply. Instead, he raised his hand toward my face, touching the corner of my eye for one brief instant before I launched myself backward away from his touch.

But by the time my feet landed beside an oak five yards away, he was there too, behind me again and this time close enough that his chest brushed my shoulder and his breath moved my hair. I fought my knee-jerk reaction to flash myself away again, knowing that he would be there before I was. He was fast. So fast that he seemed to move before I even knew where I wanted to go.

This was twelve different kinds of Not Good.

"You smell like flowers," he said, distractedly.

"You smell like…body fluids."

He let out a surprisingly pleasant chuckle. "I am making you uncomfortable."

"Um…yeah. Not that I don't usually enjoy creepy strangers breathing on my neck. I'm just having an off day."

There was another chuckle that caused a strange warm feeling in my chest. This was both comforting and disturbing.

"I am sorry," he said, abruptly putting a respectable amount of distance between us. I took my chance to inspect him properly. He looked significantly less threatening from a distance. The phosphorescent red eyes were still a bit disconcerting and he was at least six inches taller than me (giving him the ability to loom impressively over me if he so chose), but his contrite smile was genuine and a lock of his shaggy, dark hair been swept into a cowlick at the back of his head, giving him a distinctly harmless appearance.

"I am sorry," he repeated, in that strange accent that made my stomach lurch weirdly. "I…I do not spend a great deal of time in the company of others. I have forgotten many social conventions. I apologize for any discomfort I may have caused you." He peeked at me through a thick curtain of hair that had fallen into his face when he'd lowered his head penitently.

Something about that look made my face feel hot. I knew I couldn't blush anymore, but after seventeen years of being in a semi-constant state of mortification for some reason or other, I still knew how it felt. Combine that with all my stomach flutters and the heat in my chest, and I had a sense that something seriously messed up was going on here.

I rubbed my chest, eyeing him suspiciously. "Who are you?"

He stepped forward cautiously, as though asking my permission. When I didn't protest he stepped closer, tucked an arm across his middle and—I am not kidding—bowed swiftly. "My name is Paris."

_Bowing?_ I frowned. This guy must be…ancient.

"Ah," I stammered, not sure what the appropriate response to a bow would be. A curtsy? Not likely. "I'm Bella." I reached out and grabbed his hand, shaking it quickly. "Nice to meet you."

He looked at his hand, his expression nonplussed. Then his eyes were back on my face and he was smiling that smile that made my heart turn over and my head shout some very rude obscenities.

Something was not right, and the problem was located directly in my hormones. My head knew that I wasn't attracted to this nameless stranger, but my body was reacting in ways that made me want to swoon, be violently ill, and break this guy's nose all at the same time.

Edward was not going to be pleased.

…Maybe I wouldn't tell him.

"It is very good to meet you, also…Bella," he said softly, my name rolling over his tongue like silk. It was a very nice sound.

Unfortunately for him, Edward did it better. That's just fact.

"I don't mean to pry," I said, "but what exactly are you doing here? You know, in Forks. Because—" I grew suddenly hot with anger "—if you're hunting, you'd better find somewhere else to go. We don't allow that here."

"We?"

"My family and I," I said defiantly. "We live here, and we'd like to _stay_ here, so the people of Forks are off limits."

So I'm a big fat liar. It's for the safety of others, okay? Get off your high horse.

"Really? That is very good to know. But strangely enough, I have been here for quite some time now and I've yet to come across your scent anywhere. Odd, isn't it, considering that you live right here in town?"

Well, isn't that just annoying.

"You must be mistaken," I said, irritably.

"Oh, no I do not think so. I do believe I would have remembered such an…" he inhaled deeply, "...alluring smell."

Aaaand, we're back to creepy.

"Yeah….about that," I took a step back. "I have to…go do some things. I'm not really sure what you're doing here, but I've given you my warning and you've…well, you've been sufficiently disturbing. So I'm going to leave now and you and your appetite are going stay far away from here, okay? Alright."

I turned quickly to leave.

And jerked back just in time to avoid knocking him over again. "God, I really wish you would stop doing that."

He smiled that charming smile and pinched a lock of my loose hair between his fingers, rubbing it gently. "I do not think I will be leaving," he said mildly. "I have found a great many entertainments here. And I think you might be worth even more than all of those other insignificant amusements...combined."

I laughed nervously, gripping his wrist and forcing his hand away from my hair. 'Forcing' being a loose term; if he hadn't wanted to let go, I have a feeling I couldn't have done anything about it. "As truly awesome as becoming your personal plaything sounds, I'm very, very…married. So…" I patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Sorry, but you'll just have to find someone else. But not here, you know. Elsewhere. I hear Iceland's lovely this time of year. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

And I turned and ran, half expecting him to materialize in front of me again or to hear the sound of rushing wind as he chased after me—and praying that he wouldn't.

He didn't.

But as I put as much distance between us as possible, as quickly as my legs would allow, I distinctly heard laughter.

**  
1:35am**

There is really nothing more offensive than being laughed at when you're trying to intimidate somebody. He could at least have had the courtesy to wait until I was out of earshot.

**  
1:56am  
****Outside Charlie's house (I got sidetracked, okay? Sue me.)**

The lights are off in my house. I knew they would be. It's nearly 2 am, after all. But there's a faint blue flickering in the living room window. Charlie forgot to turn off the TV again. I wonder if he's fallen asleep with it on. I've told him before that would screw up his REM sleep. I hope he's not sleeping in that armchair. He'll be so sore in the morning. If he was tired enough, he might have passed out right there in his work clothes. Did he have a blanket? He was going to get cold. Was he back to his previous diet of leftover pizza and home-cooked burned fish?

I knew all of my worrying was pointless. There was nothing I could do for him now. I'd left. And besides, he was a grown man. He'd been just fine before I'd moved in.

But the image I conjured of Charlie slumped in his armchair, his work uniform rumpled, his hand dangling above the box of half-eaten pizza on the floor, and his head turned in a position that would undoubtedly leave him with a horrible neck crick in the morning, made me feel as if I'd abandoned him.

I sighed, a feeling of melancholy settling over me as I turned back into the forest and disappeared into the dark trees.

Halfway to the Cullens' old home, where their trail was obviously leading me, I stopped in a tall pine to rest and wallow in my worry.

Poor Charlie. I hoped he wasn't too lonel—

Something heavy hit me from the side and I was knocked completely off the tree branch.

As I and my apparent attacker plummeted to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs, I couldn't help but think that this was the second time today that I'd been sneaked up on. I was really going to have to work on being more alert.

We hit the ground with the force of a small comet, clearing a space in the forest floor five feet in every direction.

I would have taken the time to get upset (especially since I had felt my dress rip with the impact, which meant that I was now more naked than dressed), but unfortunately I was distracted by someone trying to make out with my nose.

"Um, honey," I said, wrapping my arms around Edward's waist, "you're a little off targe—"

Oh. Oh, nevermind. He's back on track.

"I missed you, I missed you, I missed you," he murmured, his voice muffled as he kissed every inch of my face, finally settling on my lips.

Success!

I buried my hands in his hair, relearning the feel and texture of it, hating that I might have forgotten something. He smelled a thousand times better than I remembered and felt a million times better.

And either he'd been practicing or I'd just forgotten how spectacular he was at this kissing business.

"I don't know what you're doing here," he mumbled into my neck where he'd migrated after covering my face and hair, "and I'll make sure to lecture you about this later, but, _god_, I can't pretend I'm not glad."

I smiled, dopily, trying to resist the urge to demolish his shirt. I settled for sliding my hands under it and running my fingers over his stomach and chest. Mmm, yummy.

Just as Edward's lips found my collarbone and his hands found the big rip up the back of my dress (he groaned at this), Emmett's voice cut through the sounds of gasping and Edward's incoherent mumbles about me being "irresponsible and reckless and delicious, no, I mean, careless."

"Hey, he found Bella! Looks like they're gonna go at it right here in the woods, so maybe we should give them some privacy…actually, on second thought, Rose, gimme my video camera."


	29. One Bad Choice

Remember that joke I made in my last chapter? About hopefully updating before "next Christmas" (a.k.a. last Christmas)? yes, that was supposed to be a joke. Not so funny anymore, though, is it?

I am going to graduate next semester and then there will be no more homework and no more exams and possibly no more bathing. We'll see how lazy I get. But I can't promise this won't happen again. I'm a confused, busy bitch with three roommates, two jobs, and the attention span of a grain of rice.

I want to thank everyone who sent me messages and reviews (I read _all_ of them) and I want to apologize for being so unreliable.

And I'm so lame and narcissistic, I got a Twitter: iwaspromisedpie. It's main purpose is to see if I can continually make myself laugh in 140 characters or less. But it will also allow you to keep track of my movements and periodically scream at me if you want to.

(And yes, all of my screen names involve food. I'm also a fatass.)

* * *

**2:08am**

"Now, that's just not sanitary," Emmett added with mock disapproval as he appeared in my line of sight, staring straight down at us. From my prone position on the ground, he seemed especially immense, towering over us like a mountain.

It seemed like now would be a good time to remove my hands from beneath Edward's shirt. But I didn't want to.

"I don't want to hear it," Edward said, pushing himself up and grabbing my hand to help me to my feet, "from the man who ran around Louisiana swamp land for three days with Jasper, came home smelling like a Dumpster, and then had sex with his wife—_without_ taking a shower."

"Eeew," I gasped, horrified.

"What?" Emmett asked, offended.

"Why on earth would Rosalie put up with that?"

Emmett puffed out his chest. "She knows how to appreciate manly musk, that's why. Besides, it's not like we did it _in_ a swamp," he added defensively. "We were on a bed."

"_My_ bed," Edward said, irritably.

"Yours was closer," Emmett said matter-of-factly. "Our rooms were all the way on the third floor and yours was conveniently right there on the second. It was either that or the hallway floor. I chose the less offensive of the two."

"You two were in there for seven hours," Edward growled, his hands busily brushing dirt and leaves off my clothes…and lingering unnecessarily. "I had to burn my sheets!"

"Sometimes you have to sacrifice for the greater good, bro," Emmett said solemnly. "Stop being so damn selfish."

Edward, apparently tired of arguing senselessly with Emmett—and face it, there was no other way to argue with Emmett—finished dusting me off and wrapped himself around me, pulling me into his chest and nuzzling his chin into my hair. "I've missed you so much," he sighed, kissing the crown of my head, and gently rubbing his thumb into that one tense spot that had been bugging me for the past few months that I could never quite get.

I groaned, going boneless. Oh, yeah. He still had it.

"If you two are going to get pornographic, at least go behind a bush or something."

"Emmett," snapped Esme, who, frankly, couldn't pull off snappish very well. "Leave them alone. Bella, sweetheart, I'm so glad to see you!" She looked as if she wanted to embrace me but wasn't sure how to go about it with Edward covering 80% of my surface area.

Reluctantly, Edward stepped away enough to let Esme have a turn, but kept his arm wrapped carefully around my waist.

"How did you all find me?" I asked over Esme's shoulder. "I wasn't even near the house yet!"

Esme stepped back to get a good look at me. I'll never understand why people do this. What does she think has changed since she last saw me? Grown some spare nostrils? Cultivated interestingly shaped facial hair? No. I have not.

"I've been checking in on Charlie every night," Edward said, swooping in as soon as a space opened between my body and Esme's. Esme rolled her eyes, but stood back so that Edward could get a better grip. "I was already close by when I caught your scent."

I looked up at him in surprise. He'd been keeping an eye on Charlie for me? "Really? That's sweet of you."

His answering smile was calm and unassuming, but something about it was off.

Before I could pounce, Rosalie called (from somewhere behind Emmett's hulking frame), "I like you guys, but these boots are new, these woods are gross, and I'm going home."

Edward sighed. "We should probably discuss this at home. Your clothes are ripped."

"What am I gonna do, freeze to death?" I joked.

"I can see your underwear."

I gasped and gripped the back of my dress trying to pull the ends together to cover myself, while Edward's eyes flashed with amusement.

I glared at him. "You know, at times like these I wish I had heat vision. I'd turn your head into a big ball of burning and discomfort. You wouldn't be laughing then."

"Or you could wish for meat vision," Emmett suggested. "If he pissed you off you could turn his head into a sausage."

**2:14am**

We were sprinting through the trees on our way home when, without warning, I was slammed up against a massive oak trunk, Edward standing pretty much _on_ me with his face buried in my neck.

I froze. In fact, everyone froze. Esme looked like she'd rather not witness whatever was about to happen.

"Um…Edward? You're, you know, sexy and irresistible and all that stuff, but I'd have to be some sort of creepy sex-fiend who got off on some seriously dark, kinky stuff to want to do this in front of your mom."

I stopped, looking perplex, as Edward held up a hand and said, sharply, "Wait." Then resumed what was turning out to be more of an inspection than a make-out session.

"Can I ask," I said drolly, "why you're standing on my foot, breathing all my air?"

Edward straightened up, with a look on his face that made me shrink back against the tree, despite that fact that I knew I wasn't in any danger.

I mean, what was he going to do? _Hit_ me?

Besides the fact that I'm pretty sure he'd shoot off his own hands first, I was now perfectly capable of severely fucking him up.

Not to brag or anything.

But I could pretty much end him without a lot of effort on my part.

He was holding up a lock of my hair. The situation was too recent, too fresh in my memory, for me not to associate this weird new behavior with Paris, who had stood in the same place not more than two hours ago, letting the same lock of hair slide through his fingers.

Edward wasn't letting it slide. He was gripping the strands of hair in a tight fist, looking furious. Somewhere in his subconscious, Sane Edward was making sure to leave some hair lax between us and a good thing, because otherwise, judging by the look of that death grip, I might have ended up with a serious bald patch.

"You met Paris."

I frowned up at him. "You _know_ that guy?"

"Where?"

"What?"

"_Where_?" Edward asked, startling me with his volume. I could tell he wasn't angry with me and I doubted he was aware of the fact that he was making me very nervous, but something about the situation was making him just a little bit crazy.

Well. A lot crazy.

"In…in the forest," I said weakly. "About eight miles east of here. Edward, what…?"

Something in my tone made his face soften. I could see his grip on my hair loosen, and his posture became less aggressive.

Not less close, though, I noticed.

"Sorry," he said, with deliberate calm and honest apology in his eyes. "I just…" He let out a sound of frustration and ran a hand through his hair. Then he seemed to come to a decision.

Gripping my upper arm, he said, "We'll do this at home. I don't want to be out here any longer than necessary."

"Why?" I asked, protesting slightly at his he-man treatment as he dragged me out of the tree like some sort of Stone Age cave dweller.

"I'll explain when we're at home." The reply was short and decisive, allowing no room for argument.

I sighed and followed quietly behind him as he headed for home.

**2:16am**

Don't get the wrong idea here. I wasn't _giving up_.

I wasn't going docilely into the night simply because I'd been told to wait.

I was pissed.

But I've come to learn that ass-kickings—no matter how tempting the idea—won't get me anything but the silent treatment.

**2:17am**

He can be so touchy sometimes.

If I didn't love him so much, my solution of choice would be a brick.

**2:18am**

But bricking your loved ones is wrong.

Don't ever try that at home, kids.

**2:19am**

Unless you have an Alice in your life. Then it's just the sensible thing to do.

**2:36am  
Home (FINALLY)**

I forgot how much I missed this place. It's completely creepy and empty now, aside from the old furniture and gathering dust, but it still brings back fond memories.

Like that stair between the kitchen and the living room that I constantly missed.

And that little outcropping in the wall. The one I kept ramming my liver into.

And the coffee table I tripped over every damn morning until we moved.

Yeah. I really missed that.

On second thought, why didn't we just burn this place to the ground?

**2:46am**

I settle myself onto the sofa, clearing a spot in the layer of dust. Pulling my knees up to my chest I ask, "So? What aren't you telling me?"

Esme and Rosalie sit down across from me, Emmett standing behind Rose, hands on her shoulders, looking less animated than usual.

"Hold on," says Edward, easing me forward on the couch so that he can tuck himself behind me and pull me back against his chest. He calls toward the stairs, "Jasper! You'll need to be down here for this."

There is a soft rustle of clothing from upstairs and suddenly Jasper is beside Edward, looking much more disheveled than I've ever seen him. There are tiny tears in his button-down shirt and a bright pink smear on his jaw that looks suspiciously liked the mark an open tube of lipstick would make when thrown at maximum velocity.

"Been baby-sitting Annie?" I ask, as the pieces click together.

A miffed grunt is all I get in response as he eases himself into the armchair.

"So," I say decisively. I will not be put off again. Edward is going to explain this situation with Paris and he is going to explain now or I am going to reconsider my problem-solving brick.

"So," says Edward, and I can feel his long fingers gripping my waist, his thumbs smoothing back and forth absently. "I should start from the beginning if this is going to make any sense at all to you, so bear with me, alright?"

I nod silently.

"Back in July, not long after we left La Push, the Pack was out hunting when they came across as an unfamiliar scent, a vampire scent, in the forest not too far outside their land.

"Paris," I say, sure it is true, and Edward nods stiffly.

"They could tell it didn't belong to one of our family, so they began to track the newcomer. To warn him or kill him, I suppose it doesn't matter which. But after only a few yards, the trail simply ended. There were no traces anywhere of the vampire. No sign of it within a two-mile radius and no water anywhere nearby to mask a scent."

"How is that possible?" I ask, but Edward shakes his head at me.

"Let me explain everything before you ask your questions," he says.

I nod and he continues.

"No one was able to figure out how the trail had disappeared and no amount of speculation would help them in their search. So, after a few days of watching and waiting with no sign of anything out of the ordinary, they assumed that the vampire had left. Life went on as usual. Everything both inside and outside of La Push's boundaries remained normal. The Pack began to relax again.

"Until the end of the month. According to Sam, Quil was the one who found it. He was on his way back from school when he caught the same scent as before. Right there on the Main Road."

Edward glances down at me, to make sure the enormity of what he is saying has registered.

"Paris got into the reservation?" I gasp. "But how—?"

"They didn't know. Patrols haven't relaxed at all since we left. There is almost _always_ someone patrolling the borders. But, yes, somehow the vampire had found his way into La Push, and when the Pack went out to investigate they realized that it wasn't a coincidence or an accident. The trail they followed stretched from one end of the reservation's boundaries, straight through the middle of town to the other and then vanished. The vampire hadn't randomly stumbled into the reservation; he had deliberately left his mark in the middle of their territory."

"How could he—?" I stop myself this time. "Sorry. Keep going."

Edward's fingers have stopped moving now. "The wolves were frantic. They gathered the entire pack together and went in search of him, but turned up nothing. Again the trail just ended, exactly where the reservation's borders ended. No one could figure it out. How was he masking his scent and why? They couldn't find an answer, but security was tripled. Someone was placed on guard at all times. And this time, Paris didn't go away. We think that first trail they found was an accident. Paris probably got careless. But when he figured out that someone was trying to track him, he began to see it as a challenge."

"Edward," I interrupt. "I know you want me to save my questions, but you're not making any damned sense. What do you mean it was an accident? How was his scent disappearing?"

To my surprise Edward looks to Jasper for the answer. Frowning, Jasper replies, "Paris is an old…friend. He and I met in France a few years ago. He, like many of us, is gifted."

"How?"

"Well, what's relevant in this case is it that he can mask his scent or reveal it at will. At times he can choose to leave a trail and other times make himself undetectable."

"He can control his scent?" I ask incredulously.

Jasper nods.

"It's how he managed to get in and out of La Push undetected," Edward continues soberly. "Paris could be standing three feet behind you and, unless you heard him, you would never be able to tell. His first trail was an accident, but the ones that followed were taunts. He could tell he was being tracked and saw it as a challenge. So he began to stalk the pack, deliberately leaving bits of himself behind in town to stir them into a panic. A short, ten-foot trail on the sidewalk outside of Embry's house. I smudge of scent on the flagpole outside of the post office. Small whiffs of himself on the handles of Jared's car. They would hunt and find nothing. They called dozens of meetings with the elders. No one could figure out what to do, or how to make him stop.

"Until finally, Paris pushed it too far. One night Sam came home and found Emily asleep in their bed with a hint of Paris's scent on her cheek."

My breath catches in my throat as I imagine the horror Sam must have felt, coming home to that and knowing that Paris had been inside his house, had actually _touched_ Emily without her ever waking, without _him_ ever knowing.

"That's when they called us," Edward finishes.

"They want our help?"

"I think we're their last resort," Edward says. "Trust me, they didn't sound thrilled when they called Carlisle, but they were out of options and out of patience. Sam hasn't told Emily what happened, but the incident drove him over the edge, what with the baby and all."

"But I don't understand why Paris is doing this? Why is he here? What's in it for him?" I can't quite wrap my head around it.

"From what we can tell, he was drawn here by the summit," says Edward. "And hasn't left since."

"Is he part of a clan?" I ask.

"Not at all. Paris has trouble keeping friends," says Jasper. Something in his tone makes me think that his pause before describing Paris as a "friend" earlier hadn't been an accident. "His motives are nothing more than entertainment. He likes to taunt, and to test himself."

"So he's like James," I say.

"Not exactly." Jasper's frown deepens. "Paris's abilities extend a bit further than what you've been told. His main power is not to hide his scent. Rather, that's a side-effect of his power. From what I've been told, it seems as though Paris was a bit of a Lothario before his change and that carried over into his new life."

I wait for the explanation to continue.

"Have you ever heard of an incubus?" Jasper asks.

I raise my eyebrows. "Are you saying Paris crawls into women's beds at night, screws their brains out, and then steals their souls?"

Jasper coughs lightly, trying to hide a smile. "Ah….not exactly. But his scent acts as an aphrodisiac. _That's_ his key ability. He can release incredible amounts of pheromones at will and use them to seduce women, sometimes of their own free will, but sometimes…not."  
"Like rape?" I exclaim, indignant and just plain grossed out.

"Something like it, though from what I can tell he is never violent when his motives are only to seduce and he considers it a point of pride that the women he's with enjoy it. But whether they enjoy it or not, he isn't really giving them a choice when he asks their permission and for him the game is often about power. So yes, something like rape."

"What an ass," I say bluntly.

Emmett snorts.

"Yes," says Jasper dryly. "Well, what I was getting at was…you must be aware that those of who are reborn with abilities have to learn to control them. Left unchecked, they would be intolerable. Edward would be overwhelmed with indecipherable thoughts at full volume. I would b—"

"A senseless, useless mess, similar to Jell-O?"

"Exactly. So learning to control his scent wasn't really an option if he didn't want any woman past puberty throwing herself at him."

"So learning to block his scent entirely was just a side-effect?"

Jasper nods.

"And now that he knows we've joined in the hunt, it seems he's trying to send us a message."

I blinked, into the resulting silence, waiting for an explanation. None was forthcoming.

"And that would be….?" I prompted.

"You," said Jasper.

"Me?" I was startled.

"Your hair," Edward clarified, reaching forward to lift the lock he'd been so fixated on earlier up to my nose.

The scent hit me all at once, familiar in the way it dropped straight to parts South.

My expression must have been something between "I am going to murder someone" and "Boy, I could really go for some SEX right now" because Emmett laughed, Edward sighed, and Jasper gave me a knowing look.

"Right, so, um," I say, searching for some sort of close-at-hand conversation diversion that doesn't involve explosions or random loud car alarm noises. "He left the scent on me on purpose?"

"As a warning or a taunt," Edward says. "To show us that he's nearby and to get us worked up.

"I think he's getting bored," says Jasper.

"So what are we doing about it?" I ask.

"Now? Nothing. Carlisle is hammering out the terms of our very brief and very tentative truce, but the Pack has made it clear that they don't mean to allow us much more freedom than we had before. Just enough to help them solve their pest problem."

"Well, that's gratitude for you," I say, disgruntled. "So right now, as in _right now_, the rest of you are…?"

"Waiting," says Jasper.

Emmett grunts. "We could be waiting with video games and movies, but your husband is a huge vagina and is morally against stealing from the video store."

"Emmett!"

"Sorry, Mom."

**3:06am**

Jasper has just about wrapped up his explanation when there is a sound from somewhere upstairs.

This sound can only be described as pure, unadulterated destruction.

"Annie," Jasper sighs, looking so forlorn I reach out to pat his hand.

He sighs as he gets to his feet. "She's going to make me play Dinosaurs again."

"Dinosaurs? But that sounds cute! What do you do?"

"She's a T-Rex. And you are meat."

**3:07am**

Alright. This kid is just messed up.

**3:11am**

I can hear the muffled patter of her bare feet on the floor as she whispers, in the most menacing voice I have ever heard come out of a kid that small, "Come out, Unca Jashper. I am going to eat you in the face."

Oh god. I'm torn between going up there to save him and sacrificing him for the Greater Good.

**3:12am**

Or…..

Sex.

**3:13am**

It probably isn't clear how my thoughts took the complex journey all the way from saving Jasper to sex, but trust me, there was a path there.

**3:14am**

Am I really going to put my own base needs ahead of Jasper's suffering?

Am I really such a selfish, disgusting, dishonorable person?

This is going to take a lot of thought—

**3:14am and 30 seconds**

Esme just left to call Alice. Rosalie and Emmett are heading for the garage. It's just me and Edward.

**3:15am**

I know myself too well.

There is no way this is not going to end in sex.

May as well do it now.

I'll just subtly mention to Edward that I've brought some souvenirs to show him and maybe we can go upstairs and look at them.

**3:16am**

Turned to Edward and said, "Let's go upstairs. I want to have sex."

**4:07am**

I'm so glad I have such an obliging husband.

**4:17am**

GODDAMNIT EMMETT.

Just as Edward was gearing up for Round Two, kissing his way down toward my navel, the oversized underling of Satan came bursting into our room.

WITHOUT KNOCKING.

I WAS NAKED.

AS IN, FULLY BARE-ASSED NAKED.

Although my immediate instinct (after screaming) was to get up and _break him in half, _the fun of it would have been ruined by my lack of proper clothing. It is absolutely impossible to look intimidating with no clothes on, especially when you're me.

So instead I was resigned to pulling the sheet all the way up to my nose (unseating Edward, who rolled to the other side of the bed and reached for his pants) and screaming, "EMMETT, AS SOON AS I PUT ON UNDERWEAR I AM GOING TO LIGHT YOU ON FIRE."

I don't handle murderous rage eloquently.

But Emmett wasn't wearing his usual shit-eating grin. In fact, he looked deadly serious as he glanced over my head at Edward. "Can you hear them?"

Edward, whose features had turned to stone, nodded stiffly. "They're right outside."

"What the hell are you two talking about?" I asked absently, straining to reach my clothes on the floor, maintain my grip on the bed sheet, and make sure one of my boobs didn't pop out all at once.

"The Pack's here"

I fell—spectacularly—off the bed.

**4:20am**

The blanket did not come with me.

I am sad and full of post-naked embarrassment and I'm pretty sure the entire pack has heard me having sex.

This is not a good day.

**4:26am**

When I get downstairs, everyone has gathered in the living room. The atmosphere is something you might find at a wake: very somber and serious.

"Carlisle is back," Edward says to the room at large, "and they've come with him. They preferred to meet on our land than let us onto theirs."

Emmett snorts. Esme throws him a look that plainly says, _Behave_.

I'm still simmering in mortification, wondering how close the Pack is and how good their hearing is and if I'm really as loud as I'm _almost positive _I am during sex. The whole situation is snowballing into a pile-up of future insecurities. I'm re-evaluating a lot of my life decisions right now.

"Are they coming in?" Esme asks, and you can just tell her hands are twitching to be in the kitchen, making some sort of Peace Offering Pie. I don't have the heart to tell her the wolves would never eat it.

"That would mean abandoning their wolf forms. I don't think they'll give up their best weapon in our presence." Edward's eyes are distant as he focuses on the multitude of thoughts outside. "At least, not all of them. They might send in a liaison, though. Yes….they're deciding." He pauses, as if listening.

His eyes find mine. "They can hear me relaying their thoughts."

"Let me guess," I said sarcastically. "They aren't fans."

"Not really, no." Then, undoubtedly addressing Sam, he says, "I'm sorry, but it's necessary."

There are a few minutes of silence in which I begin to sense that, without the distraction of an immediate threat, Emmett's attention is waffling between alertness and the desire to give me hell for my previous state of naked-pissed-off-ness. I can only image the sort of obscene, graphic jokes he'll come up with, and I cannot, _cannot_ have him telling any of them with Jacob nearby.

I try to send him this message mentally, as Edward says, "It looks like we're going out to meet them. But they don't want to speak through me. Sam's changing."

With that he grabs my hand and begins to head for the porch.

**4:30am  
Impromptu Werewolf/Vampire Summit (that nobody warned me about)**

I meant to be diplomatic. I meant to walk outside and stand regally by Edward's side while he and Carlisle hashed out the details of our assistance, maybe adding the occasional ingenious idea or witty joke.

None of these things happen. Instead, I walk into the clearing a few hundred yards away from the house where the wolves are waiting, automatically hunt down Jacob with my eyes, storm up to his hulking frame, and shout right into his big, stupid wolf face, "YOU'RE AN ASS, JACOB BLACK."

And then, because the force of my pent-up hurt and rage is so much more than even _I_ was aware of, I do the worst thing I could possibly do:

I forget myself and hit him.

In less than a second I am yanked off my feet, massive jaws clamped around my upper arm, crushing me, and the entire clearing goes insane.


End file.
